Tomorrow of Yesterday
by Indigo Siren
Summary: Rebecca Chambers thought she'd left the horrors far behind her... How wrong can she be... Old faces, new foes; its a fight for survival with no guarantee of getting out alive... -Time Frame: Just Before RE: Umbrella Chronicles Russia Scenario-
1. Prologue

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: My third Resident Evil story! I have been wanting to write this one for a long while. The problem was, creating a suitable plot to make it work. For a while I didn****'****t know how to map it all out, but recently, when I really put my mind to it, I managed to write my ideas all out and put them together into something I****'****m pretty happy with. I say that but I****'****m still working out some kinks in it. I****'****ll probably end up altering my ideas as I go along, even adding more, but that****'****s usually what happens with me. I****'****ve been looking forward to creating another story with Rebecca at the lead, and this one, an original scenario. I hope it lives up to what I wish it to be. Its definitely going to be a story of surprises, action and a nice splash of angst and drama. I hope you enjoy. And lastly, no flames. If you don****'****t like, don****'****t review. That****'****s all I ask. Anyway, on with the show!**

**Prologue**

**_Late August, 1998_**

The apartment was empty. Each room was aglow in mid-morning light, reflecting on clean and bare surfaces. They were stripped of the furniture and ornaments that gave them the feel of a true home. Both the creamy walls and matching carpet were bright and fresh, not a speck of dust in sight to blemish them.

Stepping down the hall between the cluster of rooms, Rebecca Chamber's gaze fell into each one with a quiet sadness in her eyes, stopping just in the entrance of the squared lounge, where remained the last two cardboard boxes that carried her belongings.

She hadn't lived in the apartment all that long, but she'd liked it immensely. It was always a vibrant and welcoming place, no matter what her mood. And it had been the perfect little nest for a fledgling flying the roost to find an exciting life in Raccoon City. This cosy apartment in a similarly cosy city had made her feel free and proud. She'd had a high prospectus job under her belt and an intensely rewarding career ahead of her; and with all the friendly faces around her, she'd never once had a concern for what the future might have held.

But she didn't have that now. The exciting life she'd once hoped for was gone. There was nothing left for her there. It was time to go back to her family in Los Angeles.

Her hopes, her ambitions - where had they all gone? How could they have dissolved so quickly in her hands? And what was left? Nothing but a bitter taste in her mouth over the incident in the Arklay Mountains, leaving her ridiculed by disbelieving citizens and fragile from the things she'd encountered.

Her career in law enforcement was well and truly over before it had even begun. She knew, deep down, that it had been too good to be true. Nevertheless she tried not to feel too down and promised herself that she would make a fresh start soon. She still had a her biochemistry degree and a range of career paths yet unexplored. Thankfully she also had youth on her side. There was so much life still left in that body of hers.

_Life… _That word, in its own way, was particularly cruel. She had lived through a nightmare and was thankful everyday for it, but what about her team mates? Men of greater ability who'd still had so much more to give - gone in an instant. She had just been lucky.

Feeling that it was a waste of time to continually mope over circumstances, she instead focused her attention back on the empty apartment, taking in the combination scent of apple and magnolia. From top to bottom she had cleansed the apartment to welcome the next occupiers, whoever they may be. But that wasn't the only reason she'd done it. A part of her had wanted to purge away the darkness of her recent past - physically making her 'fresh start' happen as soon as she could.

Smiling sadly, she slipped out of her sneakers and stepped across the carpet, her interest laying with the large bay window, made even larger now that the curtains had been taken down. Daylight glared sharply into the room, trying to highlight each and every corner of the empty room. It even pointed out the distinct indentations in the carpet where her furniture had once rested. Squinting through the bright light, she looked out into the city bustling down below - people and cars on their merry way, going this way and that to destinations unknown.

She was certainly going to miss it all, each and every distinctive detail; but she had to get away - so that the nightmares would fade away forever. It was so hard to forget those terrible nights when she could still see the forest patched across the horizon.

Though she'd slept better in the last week, the return of normality couldn't fight the creeping shadows still inside her head. Just after her return to civilisation she'd found herself drawn into many long days of misery, followed by even more intensely miserable nights where sleep almost completely eluded her. Images of blood stained monsters had constantly appeared behind her closed eyelids.

Thankfully, the smell of rotting flesh that seemed to cling to her like cigarette smoke had faded away, and the vividness of the creatures she'd once seen were blurring at the edges. Men had died and she'd wept a great many tears for them for her failure to save their lives. But was lost was lost, and forward was the only way to go.

She took time to inhale and exhale with a somewhat tired groan, then moved back across the room to retrieve her shoes in the doorway, wiggling her feet back into them. The weakness her dark thoughts brought made her chest tight and her legs tremble quite visibly. With a little focus, she calmed herself down quite quickly.

Though however much the thought of S.T.A.R.S mingled with terror and monsters, she tried to differentiate the men who'd died from the terrible situation they'd been in. She wished she'd had more time to get to know them, even one in particular she'd even come to have affection for. But even thinking that made her even more sad and she had to stop herself from reducing herself to a blubbering mess.

She shook her head to disperse her lingering thoughts as the sound of footsteps entered the apartment. It was her father, forehead glistening with perspiration from lugging box after box down to his car and the removal van. She couldn't help feeling rather guilty for making him do all the leg work, but he'd assured her when arriving that he didn't mind doing most of the work since she'd done all the packing.

The sound of an engine below signalled the departure of the van, making its long journey back to her home town.

He looked down past the doorway to the remaining boxes. "You sure you've got everything?"

She gave a nod and smiled softly. "I've checked three times just to be sure. I've not left a single dust bunny behind." To divide the last load, she took the smaller of the two boxes. "Just these and we'll be out of here."

He heaved the heavier box into his arms and nodded. "Lock the door on your way out. You can leave the box by the trunk and I'll load it in while you give your keys back to the landlord."

"Okay." The word barely escaped her lips audibly, lost within a sigh. She stood for a moment as her father left the apartment, looking about her one last time, cementing the images into her memory. Through good times and bad, her home had been her rock of support. She hoped she'd find another place just as special.

Retreating for one last time, she slowly let the door fall closed behind her as she took her one last step beyond the doorsill, turning back to watch the bright walls disappear through the last shrinking crack as the door shut back into place.

The last sound to fill the empty apartment was a hollow click as the key bolted the lock.

* * *

**_October 1__st__ 1998, [Unknown Facility]_**

The long rectangular room glistened with a sheen so abnormally bright it was a wonder it stayed so continuously perfect with the amount of gore that passed its way. But the stainless steel surfaces were polished sparkling clean, as if it had never seen a corpse to begin with.

The three tables fixed firmly into the pale grey tiled floor were all bare. All work for the night had been completed and stored away. The table furthest into the room was still being wiped down by the last remaining worker, a woman in her mid-thirties still dressed from head to toe in her stained coveralls, unnecessarily adding more shine to an already clean table. But she was a woman of perfection as known by her colleagues.

The morgue was pretty methodical. Thirty perfectly lined wall cabinets with pristine clean doors. One gurney sat in the far corner, the crisp white sheets on it folded neatly, straps clipped together on top. In labelled draws were all the sterilised equipment - knives, clips, saws, drills… all like brand new. An 'L' shaped work surface circumnavigated the room away from the entrance door all the way around to the door to the main office plated with a brass plaque announcing its purpose and the name of the head of department. They kept all their work filed neatly and alphabetically in cabinets across the length of that room - an archive that extended beyond twenty years of intricate investigations. All so perfect - but it needed to be. They were a big company that never liked to miss the mark. Nothing was allowed to fall out of place.

The woman finished with the table, tossing her cloth into the sink just as two men in temporary coveralls arrived pulling along a trolley with a black body bag strapped atop. She glanced at them wearily, smiled at her familiars and then sighed deeply at the sight of the bag wheeling in her direction.

"You boys have the best timing." The sarcasm in her voice was playful as she begrudgingly approached the men, the first of whom, a forty-something burly man, handed her a sheet of paper. "What you got for me?"

"Another one for that big project your bosses are salivating over." The first man said as his partner without a word disappeared from the room with heavy steps. The woman eyed his retreat and then turned to the remaining man, who just rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about Tim, he had a bust up with his wife before we got called out to intercept the body."

"Poor guy. Just what he needed - a night out with a dead body." She went into the office to retrieve a pen from one of the desks and returned to her companion, signing the bottom while using the table she'd just cleaned to lean on. "By the way, was it that Japanese woman again handing it over?"

"Yeah, it was her."

"I've seen her once upstairs. She's got the most deadpan expression I've ever seen, and I work with corpses for pities sake."

He laughed. "I know, must be all those bodies she's been asked to get. She's pretty heavily involved with the Binder project I figure."

"Wouldn't know. She doesn't look like a scientist to me."

"How many is it now they've got in that project of theirs?"

She tapped her bottom lip with her pen. "That takes us up to seven now." Her eyes fell on the bag. "So what do we know about this one?"

He handed her another sheet containing a profile, a picture clipped to the corner. "All you need to know is on there. A special case I'd say."

"Ah," she exclaimed with understanding, "another one from that group. I'll just send him straight on up with the rest. I think Doctor Bridgman and Doctor Yates will want to get started right away. They've been dying to test out their recent little concoction."

The man didn't seem that interested in whatever they were doing. He was just a 'dogs body' after all. "They must be really confident. But then again, they get excited over every little thing these days. Is it important, you think?"

"Yeah. They aren't saying much about it now since its only just started. They figure it'll take a few years before they get their desired results."

"You're in for the long haul then?"

"Me?" She snorted. "I'm mostly assigned down here, consorting with the dead. Though, I'm not complaining. That Bridgman, WOO, he's an asshole." Grinning, she went over to the body bag. "Don't tell him I said that."

He snorted, jamming his file folder under his arm. "Don't worry, I don't hang around enough to talk to the guy. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks! I'll see you later!" He left her alone with the body bag, which she didn't hesitate to unzip to take a look at the face. She whistled with surprise and disgust. "Boy, you're looking rough. But don't worry, those guys upstairs are going to fix you up, you can be sure of that."

These men and women were thinkers and doers in a new age of science and discovery. So dedicated their passion was practically an obsession. And as of recent, they were all swarming in around the pool of blood left by the wounded pharmaceutical company Umbrella Inc., who had taken a big blow after losing one of their prize laboratory in the Arklay Mountains. Though they had managed to cover it up well, they were going to have to fight harder to keep their name out of the press when it came to Raccoon City, which in the last hour had been reported across the airwaves to have been wiped off the face of the Earth.

Under that city had been one of Umbrella's biggest functioning facilities, another one now turned to rubble.

It left room for the greedy competition to surpass them. And certainly, the men and women working in that obscure facility, were working harder then ever to keep up in the big dangerous game of bioorganic weaponry. And they were certain that in the near future, they would produce something that would blow the competition right out of the water.


	2. Chapter 1

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: After struggling over the story, I finally managed to get this chapter finished after four complete edits of the whole thing. Some chapter talk at the bottom of the page. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

A synchronised countdown echoed around a busy hospital.

_10, 9, 8..._

The unified voices grew louder and more passionate with each numeral.

… _7, 6, 5, 4..._

Doctor Rebecca Chambers looked up from her notebook to the clock above her head, the tiny, ticking hand racing its way towards midnight. She quietly set her pen down, listening to the multitude of voices reverberating beyond her office.

… _3, 2, 1... _"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

_January 1__st__ 2003..._

Ecstatic cheers filled the corridors, spilling out of wards and offices, filling the entire hospital with joy for the brand new year. The united excitement was something truly astounding.

Rebecca pushed her chair back from her cluttered desk and stretched out her tired, stiff limbs. _'Clocked in last year; clocking out this year…' _ She thought, thankful that she was finally finished for the night.

It had certainly been a long day at The Opal Cross Municipal Hospital, most of which was spent running in and out of her office, paperwork and patients giving her little time to take a breather. Today her shift had been roughly fifteen hours, mainly because she was covering a few extra hours for a fellow doctor who'd decided to go away for the new year with his family. But she was used to varying shifts, long and short, and this one had certainly not been her longest.

Getting slowly to her feet, she stifled a yawn behind the back of a hand, then turned her weary consideration to her desktop. She liked to keep things in order the best she could, but on extremely busy days, everything usually ended up strewn around without much thought. Even her favourite singing flower toy was being crushed under a pile that had tipped over earlier when she'd left the room. No matter how sleepy, she couldn't just leave it as it was and did the best to tidy it up with what energy she had left to muster. She locked away essential paperwork in the filing cabinet and neatly piled up whatever was left in the tray stack on the corner of her desk. Now she could see the wood of the surface top, she deemed it a job well done. Behind her, through her partially open door, patients and nurses alike had begun to sing Auld Lang Syne.

"_Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind! Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne!"_

The sound of a muffled cork pop came from below in the staff room. She had heard them mention champagne being on offer for those going off shift at midnight and shortly after. She didn't know whether to bother with a plastic cups worth; she'd only eaten a sandwich and a half that day; and with her alcohol tolerance being poor, it didn't seem completely wise.

She wandered over to the door, pulling it fully open and stepped onto the balcony over the east wing reception. A small group of nurses were in the midst of finishing Auld Lang Syne, crossed arms joined as they stood in a circle around the main desk, all grins and festive cheer. Fragments of coloured paper from a batch of party poppers were still floating about, giving the usually muted looking ward a brighter, happier feel.

One of her patients, a Mr Finley, was being wheeled through to his ward. The chirpy old man noticed her above and blew her a big kiss, chuckling heartily. She grinned, giving him a wave before he disappeared through the far double doors. It was a nice change to have so much cheer about the place, and no matter how busy it had been that day, all the smiles and excitement had made all the hard work worth it. It beat the uncertainty and misery that clung to the place on a regular basis.

With the noise starting to abate, Rebecca went back into the her office to retrieve her leather satchel from underneath her desk and her coat and scarf from the metal stand by the door.

She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror screwed into the back wall. She didn't particularly like having a mirror that size around but couldn't be bothered to have it removed.

She couldn't help notice her overall image over the years had changed dramatically. She had been very conservative at one time - simple in style and appearance - but in the last year or so, she had wanted to change her appearance so that she would look more mature.

But unfortunately for her, the childish edge she'd been plagued with even in her late teens had failed to leave her, and she still looked tremendously younger then she actually was. Though, her only consolation was the fact her cheeks weren't so round anymore - more sharp and defined. She felt they made her look more attractive. All she had to hope now was that people ignored the baby doll eyes and the pouty lips.

She buried her face into her scarf, not wanting to look at herself a second more, and sharply turned away from it to stop herself mulling over her features. But it was hard not to think about it when she kept encountering people who didn't quite take her seriously. A young woman who looked like a high school girl didn't quite impress everyone. It wasn't like she'd never had this reaction before, but it still made her feel awkward as she forced a smile and tried to carry on. What's more, she'd partly regretted growing her hair long as it didn't help mature her features whatsoever.

_Oh well, you'll be thankful of your youthful looks when everyone else looks haggard at forty… _Despite not maturing her look, she felt more beautiful with her long, luscious locks, dyed in bands of auburn and sun-kissed gold. She liked to wear it up in a bun at work, but today she'd started to get a bit of a headache and decided to let it down to ease the pressure. Thankfully, it had quickly subsided.

She buttoned up her jacket in preparation for the cold and pulled her hair free from her tightly wound scarf. She hooked her satchel onto her elbow as she left the office, at the same time finding which pocket contained her keys. It was the one at the back, same as always, but her tired mind too longer then usual to figure this out.

She locked the door behind her and made the short walk to the elevator, passing a couple of giggling girls sneaking champagne back to their offices in the other wing. She shook her head smiling as the elevator doors slid closed.

When she stepped out onto the ground floor, a group of nurses hurried by, blowing horns and passing out glittery party hats to anyone who might be interested. Amongst them was a friend of her's, Megan, the first person she'd met on arriving in Opal Cross. She only lived a couple of streets away and they met up sometimes for coffee when neither of them were stuck at work.

The bright, bubbly blonde stopped when she saw Rebecca and rose her cup of champagne toward her with a big grin. "Aren't you going to get one?" She quickly paused to take sip, waving off her friends who went on ahead. "I know they're having a sort of party in the staff room. That's if you're interested."

Rebecca shook her head. "I'm honestly too tired to have a drink. I just want to go home and sleep until spring."

"Sounds like a plan. Unfortunately for me I've got a little bit of paperwork to do before I can leave. Hopefully the champagne will alleviate the pain."

Rebecca chuckled, digging a pair of leather gloves from her pocket. "I know how you feel. I just spent the last few hours glued to my desk. But anyway, I'd better get myself off before I fall asleep on my feet."

"We'll catch up some other time! A usual coffee meeting?"

"Always. Or maybe we could do that trip to the mall we've been talking about for ages." She flexed her fingers within her snug fitting gloves. Very cosy.

Megan's face lit up. "Oh yeah! Someday soon, eh? When we BOTH have days off together, which is practically never!"

"We'll sort it out. I'm sure I've got a couple of days off I'm entitled to. Well, we'll talk about it later. Bye!"

"Bye byes!" Megan quickly popped a hat on Rebecca's head before promptly disappearing into the staff room to rejoin her companions. Rebecca headed in the opposite direction, passing through the doors that led to the emergency department.

Circumnavigating the crowded corridors, she stepped out into the main reception area, packed to the brim with a whole horde of injured and sick people. There was also quite a few drunks as well.

A mixture of jolly sing-songs, gut-wrenching coughs and pitiful weeping rang around her like a bizarre choir. Though it was the usual noises she'd become so used to. She gave a wave to the woman occupying the front desk, who simply nodded in return before turning back to talk to an elderly lady with a bandaged head.

As the glass doors slid open, a frosty breeze caught her cheeks, for a moment stunning her. She'd been indoors for most of the day with the radiators for company, so it was shocking to her to feel how low the temperature had dropped. Though what was more shocking was the sight of a group of nurses, with nothing but cardigans over their thin uniforms, standing around the hospitals oval monument, enjoying a cigarette break. She couldn't tell apart their cold breaths and the cigarette smoke. But the rosy cheeked women didn't seem to care as they puffed on their glowing sticks. The cold had little effect on their bodies or their spirits. They turned to wave at her as she headed towards the car park, shouting over their new years' wishes. She returned the call jovially.

Overhead, fireworks squealed in abundance, lighting up the midnight black sky in a whole host of colours. A flash here, a bang there, finished by a crackle of sparkling luminosity. The night was very much alive and glowing in the most beautiful colours imaginable.

She wasn't too fond of the loud explosions, but she couldn't help but admire the gorgeous streams of light raining down through the dark before they dissipated into nothing. A fog of icy breath left her shuddering lips, and she realised she'd been stood like a statue for a good few minutes staring at the sky. Quivering from head to toe, she decided that it was a little too cold to stand admiring the pyrotechnics and resumed her hasty trot towards the employee area of the car park.

And there it was - her own car parking space.

There was something very special about having her own little piece of tarmac, marked at the head with her name on a little sign post. In between those lines was her 2002 Suzuki Aerio SX, which stood out prominently with its sunshine yellow paintwork. Her colleagues had commented profusely how ugly the colour was, not that it bothered her in the least. It was her baby.

Up until the middle of the last year, she had been driving a quickly aging '94 Nissan Quest. The body and paintwork hadn't been too bad for how much use it had, but internally it was starting to wear out no matter how well maintained it was. Though, it had been the perfect first car; it was given to her by her father when she first moved to Opal Cross in 2000. It had been his old work car until he'd upgraded to a newer model. At the time, she'd been driving around on an old Honda scooter, which had certainly seen better days. She always found it hard changing from one vehicle to another, as if it was some kind of personal betrayal. Each vehicle was very well loved, maybe a little too much, making it hard for her to want to get something better. But compared to her daffodil-coloured car, her scooter and old Nissan were meagre fragments of the past.

She slipped into the driver's seat, practically throwing her bag into the backseat as she belted in. She had to wait for a couple of ambulances to pass to and fro before she could finally pull out, but when she could, she didn't waste time making her exit. Putting the illnesses and blue lights behind her, she made the journey home, lengthened somewhat by a detour she had to take to avoid the roads closed off because of the festivities going on in the middle of the town.

She flicked through the late night radio stations, catching the end of Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas', decidedly settling for the rundown of the top twenty festive songs of all time. Humming away to Frank Sinatra's 'Jingle Bells', she drove through the cheerfully buzzing town of Opal Cross.

In a lot of aspects, it reminded her of Raccoon City, though not as heavily industrialised. It was a clash of rustic old and glistening modern. There wasn't too many big developments so the skyline wasn't overpopulated with huge office buildings. It was all mostly low-key; simple and homely. The only really odd looking building was the mall that sat on the distant horizon. A big silver square that resembled a dice from afar. It was something that would have fit better in the big city, but for some reason the local government had decided they wanted it to provide for all the small towns in the local area. But it wasn't all that bad - when she wanted something quite specific, it was the place to go.

More and more fireworks raced overhead, giving the sky a brightness almost equal to that of daylight. As beautiful as it was, she kept her eyes focused on the road, trying not to jump at the sounds of the exploding rockets.

Stopping at the traffic lights a quarter of a mile from her apartment, she was treated to the sight of fifty plus revellers staggering and dancing across the street, singing and hollering to each other. Luckily enough, they were all happy, free-loving drunks and the only attention she got was the flash of a man's trim chest with '2003' written on it.

Moments later, and she was pulling up to her home.

Her apartment was on the first floor of a luxury four storey building in the most expensive area of town. It was an area with all the insanely big houses, hotels and modernised office buildings. Compared to other areas of Opal Cross, her district was the shiny new penny in a pile of old money. Even though it was frequented route by workers and tourists, all in all the area was one of the most peaceful.

She pulled her Aerio SX into one of the free residents' parking spaces, which happened to be closest to the main doors. The building was a creamy white and shaped like a sphere. With the apartment being up the side of a hill, she got a nice view of the urban district from her lounge window, within which included a local park. At this time of the year it wasn't much to look at, but when the spring and summer seasons came around, it was a gorgeous sight in full bloom.

As she turned off the engine, she sat for a moment in the peace and quiet of the car, not in too much of a hurry to move. Tiredness and the cold being a big playing factor. Though in the end, she preferred the idea of climbing into her bed over festering in her car, so immediately grabbed her bag and hopped out.

As she locked her car, she heard a greeting 'meow' from the front wall. As per usual, the landlord's pet cat, Minx, was sat between the ornamental plant pots. She was a chunky little beast - certainly well fed - and didn't mind sitting out in the cold. Particularly, she liked Rebecca, mainly because she gave her extra treats where the other residents paid her no mind.

"Hello, sweetness," Rebecca cooed, rubbing the tubby feline under the chin, "how do you feel about tuna sandwiches?" She'd packed one too many for lunch and didn't want to see them go to waste, and knew her little friend would greatly appreciate them. She plucked them out of her lunch box, breaking them up the best she could while still in their plastic wrap so not to get mayonnaise all over her gloves, then placed the small pieces on top of the wall. Minx gobbled them up in seconds.

Tossing the wrap into a bin by the steps, she headed up and unlocked the main door. Minx was suddenly there at her feet, having followed her up. She casually brushed against her legs as Rebecca opened the door, and went over to her second favourite spot. The radiator. It had a polished wooden panel surrounding it which she liked to lay on and sleep most nights. It was very unusual to see her around back at the landlords cottage. She only went there when food was put out on the porch.

Rebecca left Minx to her snoozing and walked up the stairs. There was never any point in taking the elevator when she was only on the first floor. Her front door was to the left when stepping out of the stairwell, with its fluffy cow-patterned welcome mat.

She hunted out her apartment keys from the bottom of her bag and unlocked the door. She'd remembered to keep the heating on low so it was reasonably toasty as she stepped inside.

_Its good to be home…_

It was meant to be a two bedroom apartment, but she'd turned the smaller of the bedrooms into a private study. With a compact lounge, kitchenette, dining room and two en-suite bathrooms, she was set up with all she needed. All the rooms besides the bedroom were painted a peachy colour, which under the glow of lamplight gave a soothing ambience.

Just inside the entrance hall was a nylon screen, when pulled aside revealed a tiny box cloakroom, where she proceeded to hang up her coat amidst her array of seasonal jackets. Eight of different lengths, thicknesses and styles. One too many, but she never liked to admit it. When it came to her bag, she wasn't nearly so neat. She simply tossed it onto the couch to deal with properly in the morning, turning her attention to the open fronted kitchenette. She made a beeline straight for the fridge. She wasn't particularly hungry, though she had a hankering for a warm mug of milk before she settled down to sleep.

_I'll gorge on a big breakfast tomorrow, _she thought, wanting to make up for her poor eating habits that day.

Settled on that thought, she grabbed her favourite Minnie Mouse mug from the overhead cupboard and poured the milk up to halfway mark and placed it inside the microwave. While she waited for it to finish twirling about, she checked the mail she'd left on the counter that morning. She hadn't had the time to consider it before heading off to work.

It was junk mostly, though there was one bill she'd need to sort out in the next few days.

She noticed the last letter in the pile was handwritten on the front. The writing looked familiar to her. Calmly, she tore the top off and unfolded the sheet of paper inside.

It was just as she'd expected - she couldn't help but sigh.

It was from a man named Nicolas Underwood. He was a freelance writer; a man who had many articles to his name published across the tabloid continuum. He'd also published a significant few big selling books in the last few years. He was a go getter with an overflowing ego - the kind of man who sought out a story and sunk his teeth into like a rabid dog, not intent on letting go. And for some reason he'd taken interest in her for his recent project.

'The Raccoon City Tragedy: Truth and Theories'.

His letter was nigh on the same one he'd sent a few days back, pestering her for her side of the story regarding S.T.A.R.S. and to theorise with him on the events leading up to the destruction of the city.

What could he possibly want from her regarding the destruction of the city anyway? It wasn't like she was there. By the time everything really started to go to hell, she had been long gone. She'd learnt like everyone else about its destruction through the television and the newspapers.

And she certainly had no intention of throwing a bone to this guy over the S.T.A.R.S story. She'd had enough with the media and their rumour mill over that incident to last her a lifetime. It was just something she didn't wish to rake back up after the time it took her to recover physically and mentally.

Mr Underwood simply didn't impress her one bit. His letter was filled with false charm and self satisfaction. She'd seen an interview with him before and had decided the man loved himself a little too much.

She wanted nothing to do with him, and hoped that her silence would eventually put him off.

Maybe not straight away, but she was going to do her best to show him that he couldn't always get what he wanted. There was no way in hell she was going to disturb the ghosts of her past just to fill his pockets with cash.

Huffing with disgust, she crumpled up the letter up and tossed it straight into the trash where it belonged. The microwave pinged and she retrieved her mug, retiring to her study.

With the muffled fireworks puttering behind her window, she turned on her desk lamp and drew the Venetian blinds. She powered up her computer, deciding to respond to e-mails from her family and send out a big 'Happy New Year' message to everyone. She made it a priority most evenings when she was in to check up on her old friends. Two familiar names on her list were Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield - her old S.T.A.R.S. comrades. Now and again she'd take a moment to send them messages so they didn't lose contact. Her individual messages were tailored accordingly, a long gossipy message to Jill over general life, and keeping things short and sweet with Chris, checking up on his health and that of his sister Claire's.

While the other surviving members of S.T.A.R.S. had decided to go out onto the front lines to battle Umbrella, Rebecca herself had chose not to follow.

She wasn't a fighter, she was a healer.

She remembered a week or so before she'd left Raccoon City forever, she had encountered Chris purely by chance at the library, where he was trying to look up material on viruses. After finding what he'd wanted, they'd decided to go for a walk to enjoy the summer air.

They ended up whiling away the afternoon in the park, talking about nothing in particular, just trying to carry on with life as normally as they possibly could. With S.T.A.R.S. having gone under, things had certainly become very awkward for them both and they ended up with too much time on their hands - most of which they seemed to spending dwelling - wondering if they could have done more on that fateful night; saved more lives; gathered more evidence…

It was then Chris had told her about going to Europe, which became the very first steps to his establishing a nongovernmental organisation, hoping that one day he could bring down Umbrella and stop further organisations trying to follow in their footsteps.

Rebecca had admitted that she couldn't fight anymore. She didn't have the strength the others did. She simply wanted to start again - put her skills to good use in a field suited to her. There were more worthy people, she felt, that could help him ten times better then her.

It always made her wonder if Chris thought her a coward for not joining them, but he'd seemed to understand by the way he'd spoken to her that day.

"I guess there is just only so much of the horror you can take," he'd said. "It takes an iron-willed person to take on someone like Umbrella. Or maybe an insanely stupid person."

He'd been right, though not about the stupid person part. It took smart and courageous people to fight back. She might have been smart, but she didn't have an insatiable strength of will. She did want all bioterrorism to be eradicated, but she just wasn't the person to do it.

She hadn't seen Chris since that day, though they had kept in contact via e-mails and on the phone. By the way he spoke in his recent messages, it seemed that they were close to achieving their goal of bringing down Umbrella.

The once great empire was crumbling at the foundations; secrets and lies filtered out like water through the cracks. Their stocks had crashed and public support was at an all time low. They were struggling to fight back against the evidence mounting against them.

_See, they didn't need me after all! _It pleased her to know that all the blood, sweat and tears he and the others had put into their work had come to something.

Certain she was up-to-date with her e-mails, she powered down the PC and finished off her mug of milk, now thoroughly exhausted. Slowly, she pulled herself out of her comfy chair and dragged herself into her bedroom across the hall. She slipped out of her work clothes, tossing them onto a chair in the corner, though some of them proceeded to slip back off onto the floor. But as tired as she was, she didn't care.

She washed up in the bathroom and slipped into her silky pyjamas. Before retreating back to the bedroom, she filled a glass to the brim with ice cold water.

It was on long days like these that she was so happy to see her bed, mass piled with pillows and decorative cushions. It was comfy enough to hibernate in.

She set the water on her bed stand beside a steamy novel she was halfway through. But there would be no reading tonight. Just sleep and lots of it. _Doctor's orders… _She snuggled in beneath the cotton bed covers, stretching out and enjoying the space before turning over and curling into a ball. She enjoyed having a bed to herself - all the space she could ever need - but she did miss the company.

In the last few years she'd had two serious relationships. One she'd dated back in late 1999 for about six months - her first boyfriend, Michael - a sweet but rather geeky kind of guy. Not that she could say much about herself at times.

They had great conversations, but he was a little bit too obsessed with his books and didn't really know how to be romantic. Seeing no future in the relationship, she'd broken it off before it carried on much further.

The next love of her life came about five months after, their relationship lasting nearly two years. His name was Jason, and he'd had a smile that melted her heart the very first time she'd seen him. He was everything she'd hoped for: Romantic, intelligent and a true gentleman. He was always suggesting things they could do together - go camping, sailing, drive to his beach cabin on the east coat. Their time together was never boring. Unfortunately, as time went on, they did less and less together as their hectic careers began to get in the way. He was a lawyer and she was a doctor. Two occupations that clashed like a horrific car crash.

They eventually agreed, begrudgingly, to go their separate ways. Thankfully, they hadn't been living together at the time to make things more complicated. What was even more sad was soon after the break up, he took a job in Manhattan and left. She'd barely heard from him since.

She'd shed enough tears over what she'd lost and had gotten over it, but some lonely nights she couldn't help but miss what she had; all those cosy cuddles on the couch, the romantic meals on the town and their passionate romps between the sheets. It had been perfect. Maybe a little too perfect. That's why, as she assumed, the relationship ended up failing. Their ambitions in life seemed to drown out each other, no matter how they tried to fit romance into the formula.

But she accepted that not everything worked out as she could hope for and appreciated the time they'd had together, and tried to enjoy the time she had being single before trying to bring romance back in once again to her chaotic life.

_No rush! I like having all this bed space to myself!_

But her life wasn't quite as chaotic as Chris or Jill's for a start. Long hours and sick patients were nothing compared to political warring, scheming companies and fighting against biological abominations. They led a much more dangerous lifestyle. The closest she'd got to fighting these days was at her self defence classes and sometimes an odd clash with a drunk where they usually ended up knocking themselves out without much interference.

She had no regrets with the path she'd chosen. All she wanted was a quiet, peaceful life. And so far, she'd managed to succeed.

**A/N: Its scary how many times I overhauled this chapter, just to get the right flow. Its not primarily focused on thrusting the plot forward, rather simply taking a look at Rebecca character wise and what she's doing after leaving Raccoon City - almost a day in her life. This and the prologue were given the purpose of unravelling Rebecca beyond the game - showing her then and now, her reasons and reactions to where she's ended up and why she's not fighting like the others. I hope this will be helpful note to readers about the first two parts of the opening. See you next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Took me a little longer then I expected to shape out this chapter. Couldn't get it started for a while, but after breaking the chapter up to do each part seperately, I found it much easier to set in motion. I'm hoping things will really start picking up from here. Just pointing it in the right direction, is all. Hopefully you'll keep up with me! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

_**Ministry of State Security Offices, Hubei, The People**__**'**__**s Republic Of China.**_

It rotated around and around - same consistent speed, keeping accurate time - never stopping even once. The more she watched, the more she could make out the blades amidst the white blur.

Fong Ling listened to the large overhead fan hum and realised that she was focusing a little too hard on the whirring mechanism. She blamed boredom for this.

No matter the situation, she was always calm and composed. She tried not to ever let her agitation show on the surface. Nor did she look bored even when she was. She kept the same placid expression when she was in company. At the moment though, she was presently on her own, but her boss could walk in at any time and she didn't want to slip up - so diligently, she sat, picture perfect with the smallest of smiles on her lips.

Her boss was running late for their meeting. There wasn't much she could do about it but wait for him to show up. Glancing absentmindedly around the office, she stared at the same familiar surroundings she had grown used to since starting to work for State Security. The same walls clustered with gold-plated framed diplomas; the same plush blue carpet; the same mahogany wood furniture. It was the same neat and uninteresting environment that made her glad she spent her time outdoors. Offices were trapping.

It was the first time in the last three months that she'd stepped into the offices. After the Spencer Rain incident, her country had regarded her a hero and lavishly rewarded her for her efforts in bringing down Morpheus D. Duvall. She'd been even sent off on a little holiday to Taiwan, as the Ministry had said for her to (which she could quote) 'rest and recover after such bizarre circumstances'. She'd been ready and willing to return to work, but they'd wanted her temporarily on the sidelines. She knew for certain it was because they didn't want to have to verbally apologise for their own indiscretion of giving in to terrorist demand and trying to blast her off the face of the earth. They wanted to be seen to be understanding, compassionate… as well as keeping things left unsaid, permanently shoved under the rug. For them, it saved face, and Fong Ling new better then to go over the situation when they had closed the book on it all.

It was disheartening that the government could be so cold, but Fong Ling was loyal to her country. She would forget the dubious mistakes of her higher ups and focus on the most important thing - protecting the people of China. She'd given up a lot for her country without the bat of her eyelid, even sacrificed family loyalty by arresting her brother for treason against China. He was executed for this, putting somewhat of a strain on her family relations. But she'd made her choice for the greater good and had no regrets.

Sat daintily in short pale blue qipao, shimmering with metallic silver threaded flowers, she looked elegantly beautiful. The weather outside was chilly but not entirely cold, though inside the offices, the heating always seemed to be on too high and made the rooms stuffy, making her feel like she was wilting around the edges.

The office door abruptly opened, and in walked Tan Hao Zhao, the head of domestic affairs, slight flustered. He loosened his collar as he approached his desk, offering Ling an apologetic smile.

"Forgive me. I was called into a meeting last minute. Only just got out." He slumped into his leather recliner, his rotund body making the pivoting joint creak with a hefty groan. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

"Not at all," she lied, smiling softly. She liked Mr Tan. He was one of the many bosses she had that was honest and forthright with her. He had been the only one to offer sympathy about the governments callous attempt to eliminate her, while all her other bosses on his level and further up the food chain pretended nothing had ever happened.

"I shall have my secretary bring in some iced tea. I'm surprised she didn't serve you before now."

"The phones were ringing quite a lot. I don't blame her for not sparing me a second thought."

"I'll sort that out now." He instructed his secretary through the intercom to bring them the drinks, which within a prompt matter of minutes was on the table in front of them.

Sipping the tall glass of cold liquid, Fong Ling sat back in her plush seat. "You wanted to see me quite urgently?" She pressed, not wanting to make too much small talk. She wanted to get out of the stifling office and get her head stuck into another case. She felt like she'd been left out on the pastures way too long.

He set his drink down on a coaster. "With some urgency. We are still gathering the last of our information. I wanted you alone on the front line for this case."

"Oh? What's the situation, sir?"

He withdrew a set of keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked the top desk drawer, withdrawing an orange manila. He set it on the desk top, relocking the desk draw as he spoke. "The government has been pleased with your covert operations in the past, most of which you have taken on by yourself. It was a unanimous decision that we would put this assignment to you." He removed a number of sheets of stapled papers from the manila and handed it across the table to her. She accepted it, glancing keenly down at the front sheet. _Operation 86GJ00-1_

"In the last few months," he continued to explain as she read the file, "a number of top name medical researchers have been found dead. Each have been found in isolated locations, their bodies horrendously mutilated. Our sources tell us that they were all involved in very delicate research. They were pioneers of their field. Everyday they were making astounding breakthroughs in medical science. Unfortunately, as it seems, their genius lured them onto dangerous grounds. As you know, a lot of medical researchers are using their discoveries for underhand means. Some are even selling their work to the highest bidder. You yourself have seen first hand how people in the world today are obsessed with power and destruction. Every country wants their own fighting machines - and I don't mean mechanical creations. Medical science and bioengineering are creating things that we couldn't possibly imagine. No longer are pharmaceutical companies simply searching for cures to the most ravaging of illnesses. They are constructing abominations they could tip the world into chaos. They are trying to play God and cheat life itself for selfish means. But in doing so they risk their lives against greedier people. That's where the men listed before you failed."

Fong Ling looked up and down the names on the papers, reading their manner of deaths. There were even gruesome pictures to accompany it. She didn't bat an eyelid. "This is the work of one man?"

"Yes, we believe so. One name has recently come up in our records, though only by pure luck alone do we know of him. He's a very clever man. Extremely secretive. The informant who managed to pass this information along gave his life to do so."

Fong Ling flipped to the profile attached to the back. It was a fairly detailed biography of the man in question, with a large photo paper-clipped behind it. A man pictured in his early forties with slicked back blonde hair. He wore a pair of exceptionally dark sunglasses, contrasting quite sharply against the paleness of his inexpressive face. This man looked like he meant business.

"Albert Wesker," Mr Tan dictated the name atop the profile, prompting her to glance up at her boss. "A former associate of the Umbrella Corporation and Ex-Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. team, a specialised police unit that existed in the former Midwestern town of Raccoon City in the United States."

"That was the city neutralised because of contamination…"

"That's right. The Umbrella corporation is being put on trial for the atrocities committed leading to the city's destruction. Though that is just a tip of the iceberg regarding the charges against them. Umbrella has committed worldwide mayhem."

"Is Wesker on the run in regards to the Raccoon City incident?"

"I doubt the blame is anywhere near him. According to all records, he should be dead. A report on an incident that occurred in the July of 1998, he was supposedly killed and his remains destroyed in the fire of an abandoned mansion."

"He's very clever to have remained hidden so long."

"Yes, he is. I must warn you, Ling - he is an extremely dangerous man. His suspected involvement in the deaths of our countries' researchers is most troubling. Some of the information these men were retaining have gone missing. Specific viral research. In the wrong hands, who knows what will happen."

Fong Ling once again examined the names of the deceased and some of the research they had been working on prior to their deaths.

"So this, Albert Wesker, was here, stealing research for purposes unknown. But certainly if he's once been with Umbrella, he must be following a similar route. Biological terrorism." Her eye twitched with anger. "Is this man still in China?"

Mr Tan shook his head. "We received a report that indicated that Albert Wesker had returned to the United States. We can assume he found everything he was looking for."

"And you wish me to follow him and apprehend him?"

"Fong Ling, this man has stole from the people of China. Not only them, but others globally who could have benefited from the research done in this country. This man's interference has caused set backs that could delay medical advancements for the next few years. How many people are going to suffer and die in that time because a cure for their illnesses was cruelly snatched away? He has taken away a potential treatment and is most certainly going to turn it into a weapon. We must find out his plans and stop him at all costs. We trust that you can bring this man to justice."

She looked at Wesker's picture again. Fong Ling had a great faith in her abilities. She was fearless and driven in her goals. But something about this man told her she needed to be careful. Her instincts had rarely failed her.

"I shall leave as soon as possible. Please send me further information when you receive it."

It would be her first time to the United States. All her operations had been based in Eastern Asia up until then. It was going to be a mission quite in a league of its own.

But as she thought of the dangerous man she was going to pursue, she thought also of another American that she'd encounter a short time ago.

Bruce McGivern.

The cocky southerner had a unique charm about him, mostly in the way he acted like a puppy dog even though he was as dangerous as a tiger. Behind that dopey smile of his was an intelligence that even surprised her. He was one in a million, not that she liked to admit it. She was a woman of action. She best showed him her appreciation through a moment of intimacy. She may have not seen him since returning to China, but he was always there in the back of her mind. He changed her opinion in general about Americans.

As she left the office after receiving her mission, she decided that she would at least have to see him once before she become engrossed in her assignment. She knew where he was based and certainly didn't think it would be too hard to find where he lived if she put her mind to it.

With a determined glint in her eye, she stepped out into the bustling streets of China, knowing that her trip to the United States would be a fruitful one. For both business and pleasure.

* * *

Rebecca had just stepped out of the shower when the phone began to ring. Clad in two pink fluffy towels, one concealing her modesty and the other wrapped like a turban around her head, she padded barefoot through the lounge, hating to drip all over the plush carpeting. Her body ached from her excruciatingly long shift and hoped this wasn't work again trying to con a few extra hours out of her. She practically slumped into the couch as she picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hello, Miss Rebecca Chambers?"

She tucked away a stray wet lock. "Speaking?"

"Miss Chambers, this is Nicolas Underwood. I've sent you a couple a letters with regards to an interview to do with my book?"

Her expression quickly soured. For the last three weeks letters of similar content had pestered her over his damned book, all of which she had promptly ignored. Within this last week she thought that he'd finally gotten the message when no more letters came. Apparently it seemed he hadn't.

"Look, Mr Underwood, I'll be frank. I'm not interested in giving you an interview and have no intention of corresponding with you in any way further. Please don't send me anymore letters or call this number again."

"Miss Chambers, please. If I could just have a moment."

"I'm not interested."

"Two minutes of your time, that's all I ask."

She scowled, wishing he could see her expression right then. "Say what you've got to say, though I warn you, you're wasting your time."

"Miss Chambers, for all the unconstructive media that was printed about the S.T.A.R.S. in the past over the Arklay Mountain incident, I think it would certainly clear the air and present a whole new perspective of what happened in the final days before Raccoon City's destruction."

"You do realise I wasn't there when the city went into chaos?"

"That doesn't matter, it's the catalyst that I'm interested in mostly."

"You seem to believe that both things are connected?" She knew without a doubt they were in part drawn from the same issue, but she was definitely curious to see what he thought.

"All the things that happened during those last few months are too coincidental not to be connected." He gave a sigh, though to Rebecca, it sounded rather fake - as if building up to sell his pitch. "There are a lot of people out there still haunted by what happened in Raccoon City. I'm trying my very best to gather as much information as I can. You can understand those feelings, can't you, Miss Chambers? All those people confused and wondering. I'm sure there are things you know that could very well help other's come to terms with what happened."

Rebecca clutched the phone cord tightly. She didn't like his tone. A little too patronising. "Understand, Mr Underwood, what I know from my first and last mission with S.T.A.R.S. is not information I'm going to freely distribute. When I originally joined S.T.A.R.S, I had an agreement with the organisation to keep all of our mission information confidential. I still live by that code today. Besides, I doubt what I could divulge would be of any true help to the situation. And with Umbrella currently under scrutiny anyway, my words could be either perceived as bizarre or slanderous, getting a lot of people - including yourself - into trouble. Frankly, I'd rather leave all that stuff behind me now and move on. The people still affected by the incident may find some comfort with the downfall of Umbrella, which is bound to be inevitable. Don't quote me on that, but I think you'd be a fool not to see that they are collapsing under the weight of the allegations against them."

He seemed quite delighted by her words. "You do have a great opinion on the situation."

"An opinion is an opinion, but I'm not offering that for print."

"Please, Miss Chambers, all I want is a brief moment of your time - meeting in person. Even just to show you what I've discovered myself. I want to prove to you how serious my writing is."

She was certainly annoyed by his persistence. Maybe if she did meet him face to face, she could make it quite clear that she wasn't going to play ball with him and that he needed to stop pestering her or he could find himself being sued for harassment. As much as she didn't want to, she decided that it might be the best plan. "Fine. I'll meet you."

He was genuinely surprised. "Really?" He cleared his throat, sounding much more casual and calm. "That would be perfect. Where and when?"

"The Sunrise Café on Livingstone Way. Its in Central Opal Cross. I'll meet you tomorrow evening at seven."

"Thank you, Miss Chambers."

"Goodbye." She hung up, sighing heavily. "You're a push over, Chambers," she admonished herself in a mumble.

She'd let him say his piece, then snatch the rug from under him and tell him where to stick his book. There was finding truths for the benefit of those affected, and there was exploiting the truth for profit, which was the most likely option in Underwood's case.

She unravelled the towel from around her head, letting the long damp locks fall across her shoulders. She buried her face into the towel, groaning in annoyance.

_Why do people have to be so damn annoying sometimes? _She tiredly reached for the remote and turned on the TV, drowning out her irritation with a quiz show marathon.

* * *

_**6 months previous… July, 2002.**_

Following a gleeful chiming tune, a smooth female voice came over the tannoy system.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, please can you take your seats as the presentation is about to begin. Thank you.__"_

Filling a large, private conference room were a group of people, some dressed in suits, others in fairly formal wear and others in white research jackets (having been pulled from work to view the presentation). The congregation headed for the rows of plastic seats gathered in the middle of the room. When the majority were filled, the lights began to dim as a projector screen was lowered at the head of the room. The bustle of conversation previously filling the room reduced itself to a minimum as the screen lit up with stark white light from the digital projector elevated at the back. As the last of the people took their seats, discussions ceased promptly as a video suddenly began to play on the screen.

After a short countdown, a bright and breezy concerto played, accompanying a corporate logo animating on the screen.

**REMEGEN INC.**

"Bringing you medical technology of the highest standard," a confident male announcer voiced over the company slogan. The pre-filmed video soon faded into the main presentation, revealing a familiar face to the gathering audience.

The man on screen was in his early forties, with salt and pepper hair trimmed into a neat and professional style. He was the owner of REMEGEN INC., Roman Hewitt. Proud by his own image and aptitude, Mr Hewitt presented himself with the utmost class - the sharpest and most expensive suit, an office with décor that raked up costs in the thousands and a smile that sold himself to everyone who met him.

A glimmer flickered across his blue-grey eyes as he removed a pair of thin framed glasses, addressing the congregation with a husky, assertive voice. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. I know I will be keeping most of you from your work, but I'm certain the majority of you will be interested to know more about the recent success within the company. For those involved, it won't be news to your ears, but certainly you can find pride in this commending presentation. Most of you within the department of bioengineering development will have already got wind of the project, though this presentation is for the benefit of the whole company, even those dedicated researchers who made this all possible."

Agreeable chit-chat drifted amongst the audience, some pleased with themselves, some intrigued. They fell silent as he began to speak again.

"REMEGEN started out as a small pharmaceutical company based in Europe in the forties. But thanks to support and the exceptional work of our employees, in the last thirty years, we have grown to become a highly successful worldwide conglomerate. Not only have we dominated several medical markets, in more recent years we have become strongly involved further in the field of biotechnology and viral development. As you know, those last too fields have been important in our continued growth. We have developed beyond the realms of simple medicine into the world of genetic modification. Not only for the benefit of human health, but for the advantage of human power."

The image focused in just on his face as he learned forward on the expensive oak desk. He locked his fingers together before him, his eyes seemingly glowing with the fire of his vision.

"In the last eleven days, a project we have been nurturing since 1998 - one of which a fair number of you have been involved with one way or another - has come to fruition." His smile grew. "Project Binder. For those you who have not been involved directly in the production of Binder is based on an amalgamation of two elements. First, the extensive chemical modification of phytohormones, a key element in plant growth, and an human cells which use enzymes specifically for DNA encoding. With the use of viral compounds, we managed to create a unique component, merging the two to imitate an artificial DNA code. On its own, Binder is not of much use. From past work we discovered that the code created by Binder would cause dramatic mutations, affecting the original DNA strands to the point of causing irreversible damage. Thus, a secondary viral compound was produced, Codenamed: Incubate. This drug is a counterbalance based on further work with Umbrella's Tyrant Virus, kindly donated by a benefactor. Incubate is a combination of synthesized bonding chemicals combined with our own refined version of the T Virus, which we have dubbed 'Perficio'. It creates a unique elixir that has an enhanced healing factor, focusing on quickly regenerating seriously damaged tissues and cells. On its own, it is susceptible to the same degenerative aspects as the T-Virus if the mutation is allowed to get out of hand. But put together with Binder, creates the perfect virus. Binder creates a completely new and adaptable DNA structure and combined with Incubate, the two will knit together to form new structures within the human body without excessive mutation."

Hewitt stood and moved towards the window, excited in his own casual way as he spoke on proudly about his sensational project.

"Though, to prevent uncontrolled mutation, the subjects exposed to these combined virus must be kept within a status capsule, thus slowing down the process and preventing unnecessary mutations taking place. What it does focus on primarily is regeneration, this is while it embeds itself in the molecular composition of the human body. With this slow rate of progression, rejection is reduced down close to zero. Our test subjects, previously deceased, when introduced to our creation, now show signs of life four years after death. Fatally damaged cells were replicated and replaced by the Binder-Incubate combination. Tissue scarring is next to none. Most importantly, we have confirmation that the second DNA strand has adapted to the body without any issues. Within those strands are new codes that effectively enhance the subjects to the level of super soldiers, with the ability to switch seamlessly between the two DNA codes, giving them the facility to change back and forth at free will. Effectively, our research has defied God."

Gasps and cheers accompanied that last statement. Unlike Umbrella's previous attempt at creating perfect fighting machines, REMEGEN hadn't ended up with a populous of zombies for their troubles. They were all in awe of what they'd achieved.

"For the purposes of medical science and especially for warfare, we have created soldiers who can heal from potentially fatal injuries, who can harness power not found in a normal human being - enhancements unique to each and every solider created. Countries will pay a high price for this advanced biotechnology. My friends, the world will never be the same again."

A rapturous applause filled the room, Hewitt's image on screen was given a standing ovation as the film came to and end, the screen turning to black.


	4. Chapter 3

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**Chapter 3**

Central Opal Cross was much like its name - the promenade connecting the four main roads in the city, was shaped near enough like a cross. Most of the shops intersecting the promenade were starting to close up for the evening, though it didn't seem to quell the amount of people lingering around. The nightlife was beginning to amass to attend the colourful bars and clubs that dotted around the central area.

Just off one of the roads making up the central cross, on a little side street called Livingstone Way, was the Sunrise Café. Its day glow orange sign was lit up like a sun at night, calling for customers at any time of night.

Rebecca parked her Aerio SX in the small lot at the back of the building, getting as close as she could to the side walkway so she didn't have far to get to the front entrance. The temperature outside was bone chilling, enough that she pulled her scarf up around her face in preparation before she climbed out from behind the wheel.

Hot steam rose from the kitchen vent into the icy air, leaving temporary wispy clouds that dispersed above her head as she passed. She felt the warmth slide against her cheeks, suddenly very tempted to stand under the warm vent until her frozen bones thawed out.

Aching and tired from a long day at the hospital, she slowly strolled around to the front door - its glass panel completely fogged up, making the figures inside look a complete blur. One of them had to be Mr Underwood, not that she was looking forward to meeting him, ego and all.

After a few silent words of encouragement to herself, she stepped inside, greeted by an intense blanketing of heat from the blowers. For a moment, she was short for breath, snatched quickly from one extreme temperature to another, though quickly the feeling past and she found comfort inside the warm room.

The café was a typical little place. A very clean though worn establishment, it had a charm about it that she couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the people - they were friendly and chirpy whether busy or quiet, hot or cold. It wasn't all that big a place, though they'd managed to cram in quite a few booths and single tables, all coloured red and yellow to suit the chequered décor of the floor and walls.

There were a small number of people in that evening - some gathered with friends and family and others sitting quietly on their own, listening to music or simply reading a newspaper.

It was easy to spot Nicolas Underwood amidst the gathering. He stood out like a sore thumb. The charcoal grey pinstripe suit seemed like something a gangster would wear; and not even the pink and purple striped tie could help the image. In fact, he just looked like a dodgy car salesman. He had a tan that was a little too orange to be natural and his hair a brown colour that had definitely come straight out of a bottle. He was just too seedy looking for such a casual atmosphere.

He finally noticed her presence and waved heartily. A part of her wanted to turn around and walk out, though she didn't. How much she hated herself for doing so, but she needed to tell this man where to go so he'd finally leave her alone. So begrudgingly, she approached the booth where he was sat, realising no matter how hard she tried, she could offer him a smile. He rose with a welcoming hand, grinning toothily.

"Miss Chambers, I knew it was you. Thank you so much for coming." There was an awkwardness between them when she didn't accept his hand, but he hid it quite well by sweeping his hand towards the seat opposite to his. "Please, sit down. Can I get you a drink? Some food, maybe?"

She felt her stomach rumble and inwardly grimaced. She'd had two sandwiches at lunchtime and nothing since, and had to admit she was very hungry; though, she certainly didn't want to owe this man anything, especially dinner.

"I'll get my own, if you don't mind." She slipped out of her blue woollen coat with its matching accessories and called over the waitress. She ordered a strawberry milkshake and a cheeseburger - simple stuff that would be quick to finish. Underwood drained off his coffee and ordered another, handing the waitress the empty mug to take away.

"I'll try not to take up too much of your time," he assured, though she didn't quite believe the words. "I really am very pleased you could make it."

"Look, we'll just cut the small talk and get straight to the point. You want to try, and needless to say you'll fail, to convince me to contribute to your book. Now, state your case as I really want to eat and go to bed. I've had a long day."

He was undeterred by the sharpness of her tone, and instead, carried on smiling with confidence, reaching into the satchel beside him; from it, he retrieved a thickly packed plastic folder, laying it down on the table in front of them. He switched seamlessly into business mode.

"With Umbrella currently under the spotlight for the massacre of Raccoon City, there has been so much fruitful information surface in regards to the incident. Personal accounts, video tapes, diaries, official reports, you name it! The problem is, its all speculation and official claptrap. Survivors of the incident are still trying to get their heads around what actually happened. It was a journalist who escaped Raccoon City who specifically said that S.T.A.R.S knew the truth."

"Journalist?"

"I can't remember her name. Began with an 'A' maybe. It was a brief encounter, but those words stuck with me. So, I did my digging. It was very interesting what I read on the case in the Arklay Mountains, though the facts they gave were jumbled garbage. After shifting through the publications I thought it best to get in contact with someone involved in the incident, and at the same time see if I could find the links to Racoon's destruction."

"And you chose me." The waitress brought her milkshake and told her the burger would be following shortly. Rebecca twirled the straw in the pink creamy froth and glanced at him blankly. "Did you think after everything that happened with S.T.A.R.S, I'd be willing to step out into the limelight to spill my story?"

"You're a smart young woman," he pampered the words on her like a pat on the head. It was almost as if he'd said, _you're smart, you'll give me what I want…_

She scowled. "Do all the people who talk to you fall over themselves to tell you what you want to hear?"

"Its not about what _I _want to hear, its about what the _people _want to hear."

"Oh, the _people _is it," she said, mimicking his tone. "The _People _seem tohave no idea when to keep their noses out." She stared at him pointedly, both knowing who she was really aiming the comment at.

Her burger arrived, cutting off what he was about to say. In the time the waitress arrived with the plate of food, his second coffee and a few additional condiments, Underwood decided against what he'd previously wanted to say. For a moment, a look in his eyes said he was about to plead with her. His expression now, switching back to a confident smile, said he'd changed tactics.

"It's a real shame you think like that," he lamented, cupping his drink between his hands. "So many people have suffered because of what happened. The things you know could actually help ease their pain."

"Or make it worse." She squeezed a packet of ketchup onto her burger. "They wouldn't understand anyway."

"Understand what?" His eyes were eager, sparkling with the need for information.

As she reached for the salt pot, she knocked a mayonnaise packet off the table onto the floor. Prolonging his agony, she carefully reached down to retrieve it, ignoring his imploring stare for her to continue. Packet retrieved, she bumped the table with her leg as she began to sit back up. She heard her glass clink loudly.

"Careful, you almost knocked your drink over." He moved her glass further back into the middle of the table.

She just glared at him, tossing the mayonnaise onto the other side of the table and retrieved the salt for a quick sprinkle over the burger. "What was I saying?"

"You were going to tell me what 'they wouldn't understand'," he pressed.

"No I wasn't."

"Miss Chambers, I don't think you understand how serious this is. These are peoples' emotions you're playing with."

She tucked into her burger, ignoring him. At that moment, he was just a really badly placed piece of furniture. After finishing half the burger, she sipped her milkshake, tossing out the straw to save time.

"You keep saying people, Mr Underwood, but I'm not quite believing that you're writing this book for the benefit of the people. Its all about money and cashing in on people's misery. There are probably people out there who want to know the deep, inner truths of Raccoon City, but I'm sure there are plenty who just want it all to be over and done with. Some people just want to heal from their wounds, not pick at them like old scabs."

He listened and quietly scrutinized her as she finished off her burger. After a short time, he shook his head.

"I don't think you'll ever truly understand my motivations." He paused and sat back. "We're on two different wave lengths, you and I." He took a long sip of coffee, savouring the taste before he continued. "I see the importance of knowledge and information, no matter how bad it is. You just want to keep it all locked up in a tight little box and hope it never comes to the light of day again."

She shook her head. "No, you misunderstand. Its not about ignoring or hiding - its about knowing when to stop poking and prodding at something." She was getting bored with his art of 'persuasion'. She just wanted to get out of there as quick as she could. With her burger polished off, she downed the last half of her milkshake, almost choking when a lump if it lodged in her throat. She coughed and hacked until the lump disappeared, admonishing herself for rushing. Across the table, Underwood looked somewhat concerned.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Fine. Just fine. Drank too fast." She set down the empty glass and stood, picking up her belongings. "I'm sorry, Mr Underwood, but I won't be helping you with your book. I have nothing I feel that is worth putting in print. Publishing dirty secrets, I feel, will not be for the benefit of the people, but instead to line your pockets. I would be grateful if you don't contact me again, otherwise you might find yourself in a lot of trouble."

Underwood simply shrugged. "Fine. I tried my best. Though I will say this - I think you're making a big mistake saying nothing."

Rebecca was a little surprised. That was it? No further attempts to sway her principles? He'd just given up so easily - though, at the same time, she figured he knew that he couldn't change her mind and that he was fighting a losing battle trying to do so.

He stood to shake her hand. "Whatever you think, I really was glad to meet you. I'm sorry that I couldn't persuade you to help me."

This time, she accepted his hand. "Good luck with finding the information you need." He'd probably never find out the truth. It would be hard for him to scratch below the surface of the truth.

"Goodbye, Miss Chambers. Take care of yourself."

"Goodbye, Mr Underwood."

She left him alone to nurse his coffee in defeat as she paid her bill at the counter and departed. There was a certainty inside her that she'd won this battle, and as she climbed into her car, she felt a certain satisfaction in driving away then she had any other day in her life.

Though sated by her meal, she was thoroughly exhausted. She just wanted to get home, soak in the bath and watch a bit of television before bed. Thankfully, there was next to no traffic on the way home and she arrived back in no time.

She parked in her normal space outside the apartment building, and made a quick stop to pet Minx sitting in her usual spot on the wall.

"Nothing for you today, I'm afraid to say," she whispered to the cat, whom very quickly lost interest and sauntered off into the night.

Rebecca wasted no time in jogging up to her room, wanting to get her tired body inside before she fell asleep on the stairs. She fumbled for her keys in her bag - her tired fingers making things awkward - and unlocked the door.

The second she stepped inside, she stopped dead, frozen to the spot. The contents of her cloakroom were scattered across her path. Shoes, coats, scarves…

She stepped over the items, finding herself drawn in to a more chaotic scene.

Her whole apartment was in disarray.

The shock held her for a moment as she slowly surveyed the scene - her brain trying to understand what she was seeing. Her personal belongings - everything she owned and loved - were tossed around, littering the apartment floor like a war zone.

_Who on Earth could have done this? _Her mind was swimming, so much she almost collapsed to her knees. She felt sick. Someone had violated her sanctuary.

It took her a long moment, but she finally pulled herself together. She turned to grab the phone to call the police - and stopped again. Sat beside the handset was a very familiar looking embroidered patch…

"How did this… ?"

This time, she did fall to her knees, wide eyes glued on the emblem of her former team, S.T.A.R.S.

* * *

'_Welcome to REMEGEN INC., a top name pharmaceutical company providing high quality medicines since its establishment in 1941. Having expanded beyond the European market, REMEGEN INC. is now known worldwide for its advanced medical research, and has pioneered the market in producing the most state of the art equipment for hospitals on a global scale. We aim to provide-'_

"Oh for God's sake, turn that shit off."

Through the lens of a video camera, the world was compressed into a somewhat grainy scope. The view was currently focused on a television monitor displaying a beautiful auburn haired woman in a red suit dress. She was making a lot of delicate hand gestures as she presented REMEGEN's history and their marketing pitch. In fact, this nameless beauty was all over a multitude of screens covering the front lobby welcoming guests as they passed through. This was the civic face of the company - the welcoming mat and selling point.

The camera turned to sweep the large space. White walls decorated with artistic pictures of the coast (taken from the scene outside). Samples of their technology were displayed like art pieces around the lobby - to show off the kind of things the hospitals were getting their hands. It was a picture of professional perfection.

If only they knew what happened below ground…

"Are you coming?" A woman called sharply off screen.

The man behind the camera grumbled before pressing on - not that he minded, he was sick of listening to the same speech on constant repeat. He really would 'turn the shit off' with a fist through the monitors.

He followed the woman who'd called to him towards an elevator at the back of the lobby. She was a skinny brunette, donned in her pristine clean, white, lab coat and her hair tied up tightly into a bun. A pair of delicate, squared spectacles sat on the very tip of her nose - the way she always wore them - giving her that extra air of sophistication. She was no beauty, neither was she terrible to look at. She was just simply plain - a face that would easily fade into a crowd. For the lack of lines on her face, one could tell it was a rare occasion when she smiled.

When they finally stepped into the small, sterile-looking elevator, she finally noticed the camera on her. She squinted into the frame and then scowled past it at the operator.

"Are you filming!" She hissed with disapproval. Vaguely in the lens of her glasses, the outline of the cameraman could be seen, grinning away to her annoyance.

"What? Don't tell me you're camera shy?"

The frame shifted to a side view of the woman as the cameraman stepped to the side of her in the elevator. She stuck her key into a panel below the normal floor buttons and turned it; a cover slid down in response, revealing another set of buttons. She pushed the one for B3.

The doors closed and the elevator began its descent.

"You're wasting tape," she seethed after a moment of quiet, deliberately turning away from the camera.

"Good grief, I'll edit the damn footage before we show it. Just capturing your best side, just in case anything happens to you."

"Such a comedian," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

_DING! _

The doors opened on B3. The woman stepped out first, striding away down the corridor at a pace that the cameraman could only match with a job.

"Aren't we in a mood today?" He goaded, though she gave no visible response to him. He quietly sighed and continued filming down the long, grey stretch. Blank doors with letters and numbers on them passed them by - the only ornaments along the corridor were a couple of old black and white employee photos from the fifties hanging on the walls and two large potted plants at either end.

"Is Subject 1A in the room?" His companion asked, in a strictly business tone.

"The guards left him in there about ten minutes ago."

"Good." When they reached the end, she swiped a card through the reader next to a set of double doors. They slid open when the light on the reader turned green.

It was a simple examination room, everything neatly in its place. The walls were as white as the day they were first painted; the surfaces glistened in pristine condition. Besides the units surrounding the room, there was one table and a work desk in the middle of the room. There was very little too over-encumber the space.

Sitting on the cloth covered examination table was a man, the one dubbed Subject 1A. He was in his mid-to-late twenties with messy blonde hair and an athletic build - muscles finely chiselled by years of hard work. He was dressed in a pair of maul grey sweatpants and a plain, white, form-fitting t-shirt. He sat smoking a cigarette with a jubilant expression on his face.

The woman's face was not so jubilant. The camera followed her fuming form as she strode towards the desk just across from where the subject was sitting.

"Hey! Its Miss Yates!" He greeted overenthusiastically. "I've been missing you! Where you been?" He was intentionally rattling her cage, and it was working.

"_Where _did you get that cigarette!" She raged, though her shout was more like a squeak.

"The guy that was taking my blood; he had them in his pocket. So, I helped myself. Oh, and to his lighter, too." He took another drag and meticulously blew out the smoke in the shape of a hoop. "Did you see that? Took me years to get that to work!"

"Put that out now!" She demanded, slamming down a pen pot to put emphasis on her high pitched screech.

The subject put his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. Just for you, my little chipmunk." He slipped off the table and walked over to the sink a few paces away and put it out under the tap, leaving the stub to follow the swirl of water around before it went down the drain.

Behind the camera, the operator sniggered. "Chipmunk… Good God, it suits…"

Miss Yates snapped her head towards the operator. "Are you going to set that up on the tripod, or you going to continue making your silly little home movies?" Nose up in the air, she went to hunt out her work from the filing cabinet next to the desk.

The view in the camera went all skew-whiff, semi-rotating the bland room as the operator fumbled off-screen to set up the base. All the while in the corner of the shot, the subject reclined, staring off into the distance. Though when the camera was set up properly, it could be seen that he was actually admiring Miss Yates's 'assets' as she bent down to pull some paperwork out of the bottom of the cabinet. It didn't take her long to notice him staring - though, he just smiled at her, unmoved by her heated glare.

Finally, with the camera stationary and in the right place, the operator stepped out. He was tall and lanky, with a thick crop of dark blonde hair. His long face had a grin that stretched from ear to ear and seemed perpetually stuck there. He was the yang to Yates's yin. There was no doubt by looking at him that he was quite a cocky sort of man.

He used the corner of his own lab coat to polish the lens of the camera.

Setting her files down, Yates turned to the camera operator. "Everything ready then?"

"Am I going to be on TV, Mr Bridgman?" The subject asked in a faux childish voice, reclining back on the table.

Mr Bridgman made one last adjustment of the camera and turned to the impatient woman, tapping her foot in the background of the shot and gave her the thumbs up.

"Finally," she mumbled, straightening up the work she'd set on the desk.

Bridgman turned back to the camera. "Presentation tape for Subject 1A," he said into the lens. Finally, he turned and acknowledged the subject, who was sat grinning behind him. "You having been accepting your injections everyday?"

"As the doctor ordered," he responded, crossing his legs on the table surface.

"Have you experienced any strange side effects from your viral amalgamation?"

"What kind of side effects we talking about? Physical or mental? Physically I'm a prime piece of man meat, as normal looking as I could possibly be. Mentally, I'm a sexually deprived hot blooded male with urges stemming from my beastly side - and I'm sure you guys don't want to see any of that. Could be pretty disgusting." He cocked his head innocently. "Does that answer your question?"

Mr Bridgman cleared his throat, rolling his eyes. "I suppose we should have come to expect you'd be thinking in two minds."

"Man and beast?"

"Sex and stupidity."

"I'm hurt!" He mock wept. "You don't take me seriously at all."

"No, we don't." Yates seethed, walking over to Bridgman, lowering her voice. "I knew we should have picked one of the other more sane ones."

"I can still hear you when you whisper!" The subject called over as he played with the table's cover. "Got keen ears now, if you remember."

Yates scowled and ignored the man behind them. "The others are much more cooperative."

"Work with me, Laura. You're too damn impatient. If you were a people person, you could deal with these kind of situations."

Miss Yates stared at the camera. "You'd better edit this out."

Mr Bridgman smiled at her and walked over to the subject, picking up the folder off the desk. "Were you fully examined when you had your blood taken?"

"Nope! The vampire just wanted my blood!" He made imitation stabbing motions towards his arm. "Needle in, needle out, and he was gone."

"Okay…"

"You can examine me now, if you like?" He spun around to Miss Yates in the foreground. "Are you going to have a good feel of me? I dream of you groping me…" He wiggled his brows at her.

Miss Yates groaned, turning away.

"I'm ready when you are! Look!" He started to strip off, tossing the t-shirt into Mr Bridgman's arms, while playing with the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding across the table towards Miss Yates.

Her reaction was nothing less then shock. "Stop it! This is completely unnecessary!"

"Oh come on! I bet your bosses would be impressed by your willing subject wanting to be poked and prodded. Hell, it will even make your video with a bit of nudity! I bet your fellow lady scientists want to get an eye full of me!" At this point, he'd undone the drawstring of the sweatpants, jumping off the table behind her. She bolted like a scared rabbit with the subject in pursuit. The camera stayed on Mr Bridgman, who'd covered his eyes, trying to stay professional, but the smile cracking said he was anything but.

"PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!" Miss Yates screeched from somewhere off screen.

"Oh come on! What's so scary about a bit of flesh?" Her pursuer teased. "Don't tell me my manliness scares you?"

"WHERE'S SECURITY! COLE! MAKE HIM PUT HIS CLOTHES ON!"

Mr Bridgman moved towards the camera and sighed, his infamous grin plastered on his face. "I think we'll have to try another subject. As hilarious as this is, I doubt the bosses want to be watching an amateur pornography."

Yates skidded back into the shot, putting herself behind the desk for protection. "YOU STAY THERE OR I'LL USE THE REMOTE!"

The subject returned into the shot, butt naked and not even batting an eyelid, swinging his sweatpants around. "Come on! I'm all ready to be examined! What's the problem?" Luckily for recordings sake, Bridgman's head blocked out the subjects lower half.

"We'll proceed to record again when we have a bit more decorum." Bridgman shook his head, and started to laugh. "God, Yates, you realise you'll never get a better offer then with this guy…"

He turned off the camera.


	5. Chapter 4

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I have to apologise for taking a long time getting this chapter out. I have having A LOT of trouble putting this together, and I even had to go to the point of chopping up the content to fit in two seperate chapters because there was so much of it. Not only that, I was re-writing whole parts because there were just bits that were completely long-winded and boring. Some of the harder parts I've saved until the next chapter to put out. I'm just so glad I have got this out now so I can try and progress with the story.**

**Chapter 4**

"They didn't take anything?"

"Not a single thing."

"And you're absolutely sure of that?"

"Positive. I have a photographic memory when it comes to my apartment. I searched the place from top to bottom, just to be sure. Whoever broke in simply messed the place up, that's all."

Jill fell silent on the other end of the phone. Rebecca could picture her mulling over the situation with her intensely deductive mind; she simply waited quietly for her to respond, shuffling to find the most comfortable spot on her couch. In the midst of the brief silence, she cast solemn eyes across her apartment. It was almost exactly as it was before the break in, bar a few little things that had been damaged beyond repair. For the most part, it was the same neat and conservative home she'd always remembered - not that the feeling eased her in any way. Nothing could take away the violation that still lingered there.

"That's weird," Jill finally said after her pensive pause. "I mean, who would just break in to your apartment and simply trash it without taking a single thing? Unless someone was trying to send you a message, the whole thing seems completely pointless. You don't have any enemies do you?"

"Nobody here. I tend to get on well with everyone, no matter who they are." Her thoughts switched to something particular. Old business. "Though if we're talking about a conglomerate of people who might still be annoyed with me, then I can think of one."

Jill caught on quick. "You mean Umbrella?" She practically spat their name out with revulsion. "They're a bunch of sneaky bastards - you can't put anything past them. But why would they start picking on you now? It doesn't make any sense."

"I have my suspicions, though I can't be sure…" She swallowed heavily. "It was just that something was left behind."

"What was it?"

"A S.T.A.R.S. emblem." Silence met her disclosure. It was only Jill's breathing that indicated she was still there. "Like one of those patches they used to sew onto the uniforms."

Jill grumbled with disgust. "Typical Umbrella shit."

"I can't be completely certain it was them, though seeing that, I have to wonder. But honestly, Umbrella doesn't usually mess about when it comes to taking care of their 'problems'."

"You're right. They're pretty direct if they want you dead. I know that from personal experience." The phone shuffled loudly as Jill switched it from one hand to the other. "But what about that Underwood guy you told me about? Could he have something to do with it?"

"That's what I thought at first. I even voiced my suspicions to the police." She sighed heavily. "They questioned him about it, but fortunately for him, he has a solid alibi. He was seen at a hotel bar on the edge of town all afternoon before he came to meet me. There was no way he had time to detour to my place before our little meeting. Besides, he doesn't seem to have the ninja-like qualities of someone who could sneak into an apartment, trash it and get away unseen and unheard."

"Neither seen nor heard? So your neighbours weren't able to help you?"

"Unfortunately not. The couple across the hall were on vacation in Ibiza for the week. All the other residents were either out or didn't notice anything strange. There were no sounds coming from my apartment all day. Whoever did this was like a ghost." Rebecca ran a tired hand down her face. "It all just seems a little unreal. I can't get my head around it. You'd have thought we'd have left S.T.A.R.S in the ashes of Raccoon City."

"These things never stay buried. They just seem to simmer in the background."

Rebecca sunk down in her seat, feeling somewhat defeated. "I just wanted to move on from it all. But its obvious someone doesn't want me to forget."

Jill suddenly seemed startled by a thought. "God I hope this has nothing to do with our latest mission."

"What?"

"Without divulging too much confidential information, we've discovered one of Umbrella's last strongholds just outside of Russia. Word getting around indicates suspicious activities going on there. We've decided to squash them before they try to amass themselves again. They're going to pay for their crimes, one way or another."

Rebecca hoped that they'd finally get their comeuppance. It was long overdue. "You know, I doubt my situation has anything to do with your operation. We've only had minimal contact in the last few years. There would be no benefit in targeting me."

"Exactly."

"I'm hoping the police can get to the bottom of it. I can't stand not knowing who broke in." She clutched the phone tighter. "You know what really freaks me out? The fact there was no fingerprints left behind - yet, there was someone here, touching all my stuff. God, it messes with your head…"

"Rebecca," Jill's voice soothed over the line, "maybe you should think about taking some time off. Go see your parents or take a little vacation, just so you can clear your head. It can't be nice feeling so uneasy about what happened. Maybe while you're away, the police will catch whoever did it."

"I can only dream." Rebecca flopped across the couch, tucking a cushion beneath her head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need some time off. But I have to admit, work has been a good distraction, though its driving me nuts when people have been asking me about it. Maybe I'll think about booking some time off in a week or so. I don't want to let the hospital down at the moment - we've had a large influx of patients recently, and its not helped that we've had staff shortages because of seasonal illness."

"Do what you thinks best. If you need to talk some more, you know I'm more then willing to listen."

"Thanks, Jill. I know you didn't need this on your plate right now."

"Don't worry about it! Listening is what I'm good at. Not that Chris would agree with me on that front."

"How is he doing?"

"Same old, same old. You know Chris - not much goes on with him. He's got a one track mind."

"Yeah, I remember!" The conversation had made her feel much more relaxed. It was good to have a strong-minded person to turn to when she wasn't at her best. "Look, I'd better let you go. I'm sure you're busy with your operation and all. Besides, I just remembered that my refrigerator is empty. I've had so much on my mind I completely forgot to get anything in."

"That's fine! You keep me up-to-date with any other developments. I'll be around for a couple more weeks before we're dispatched."

"You take care of yourself. You guys are taking a big risk."

Jill chuckled. "I'm used to risks. That's my life in a nutshell."

"I'll talk to you later. Bye for now."

"Bye."

Rebecca slid across the couch and put the phone down, hanging off the arm rest limply. The quiet of the apartment was intensely heavy. She decidedly she'd definitely have the afternoon out - do her shopping and maybe even eat at her favourite Italian restaurant.

Anything was better then wallowing in the depths of her fear.

* * *

It was if on cue that it began to rain. The droplets battered the small office window with a sound akin to stampeding elephants. Behind the water sprayed glass, a figure stood statue like behind a cluttered desk, trying to ignore the overwhelming sound behind her.

Jill rested the phone gently back into its cradle. A heavy lump had formed in the back of her throat, one she swallowed back with great difficulty. Her head was swarming with thoughts of Raccoon City; her escape; its demise; the Nemesis…

Trapped in that living hell, she'd come close to losing her life; but luck and the intervention of a young mercenary had prevented that.

Sometimes she wondered what had happened to that young man, Carlos Oliviera. He'd had his own agendas to take care of after Raccoon City and had quickly disappeared off the grid; she hadn't heard from him since. But she could understand. They all had their own fights to take care of.

Hers, was against Umbrella.

The company was a cesspit of corruption and betrayal. How they'd managed to cling onto life, she'd never know. They were being stripped down under the public eye for their crimes, but somehow they were surviving the backlash of their atrocities. She couldn't let them regain their former status - if they did, it would be the end of the world.

Although she was fighting for the greater good, she couldn't hide the fact that most of her actions were fuelled by revenge. Umbrella had been responsible for the destruction of S.T.A.R.S. and had effectively turned her whole life upside-down. She knew the world was not a friendly place by any means. There were always people trying to screw each other over and create better and more deadly weapons to oppose their enemies, but she never thought something quite so horrific as bioterrorism would take over her life.

Umbrella had blundered on an astronomical level. They had dug their own grave, but weren't yet quite ready to crawl into it yet. They still had a few tricks left up their sleeves.

But why would they choose now to suddenly start picking at S.T.A.R.S. again? The thought made her seethe. Still, there was no proof that it was actually them - though that begged a new question - who else could possibly have issues with S.T.A.R.S.? And why Rebecca? Why not Chris or herself? They were the ones on the front line. It was a frustrating mystery.

She wished she could be of more help to her friend, however, she was already tied down completely by their assignment. Within the next week or so, she'd be heading out to Russia - it all depended when they'd secured their supplies and agreed on their tactical manoeuvres.

There were loose ends to tie up with Umbrella, and with word of their latest B.O.W. filtering through, it looked as though things were going to be much more difficult then first anticipated. She wasn't looking forward to _that_ encounter whatsoever.

The office door creaked a jar open and stirred her from her thoughts. She turned to find Chris stood in the marginal opening. He gave her a small smile, one that he didn't share with her very often in these tentative days. She returned the smile, realising that she herself had been rarely smiling at all.

"Hey, everything okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine… Well, as fine as I'm going to be." She took a seat, staring out of the window at the thickly clouded skies. "God there is so much shit going on, Chris."

"Isn't there always?" His voice quickly lowered to a softer, more assuring tone. "Don't worry too much, okay? It'll all work out in the end."

"God I hope so. I _really_ hope so."

* * *

It had been a long flight from Wuhan to Washington. A change of plane in between two stops in Beijing and New York culminated in twenty-two hours of travelling anguish. Luckily for her, she'd had the privilege to fly first class.

As she stepped out with a throng of passengers into the terminal, she felt the life gradually returning to her numbed legs. Despite the spark of vivacity, she couldn't fight the tiredness threatening to pull her under. Though her journey was a comfortable one, she wasn't able to get much sleep - there was just too much going on in her head; that, and a loud-mouthed man a few seats forward of her was literally squawking at the in flight movie in front of him and constantly trying to chat up a meek little stewardess. Needless to say when he fell asleep in the last hour of the flight, she'd had the urge to discreetly smother him in his sleep.

Now on terra firma, she forced her tired body to shuffle through the busy arrivals area, battling weekend traffic. Though, despite the hectic crowds, she found that she moved fairly quickly through the checkpoint - a huge relief, as she'd imagined herself being stuck in a queue for hours on end, her sanity bare threads from destruction.

Another relief came from not having to deal with her weapons being shipped over. Special circumstances had been arranged on that front, and she would be reunited with her armoury when she arrived at the apartment she'd be occupying for the duration of her stay.

For all intents and purposes, she was just a simple tourist out to see the world while she was still young. Only those in authority who were privy to the mission details knew who she really was.

Not a single soul who passed her knew of her position and the importance of her work.

China and America were relying on her to stop Albert Wesker in his tracks - a man wanted for murder, conspiracy, theft, blackmail…

… And those was to name a minuscule few of the charges.

Trying to find and capture such an elusive man where others had failed was going to test her to her very limits. The fire of the hunt burned a new sense of vigour inside her, and she vowed with a sense of pride that she would not give up until he paid for his crimes against humanity.

But all that would have to wait until she'd had a good nights rest - she couldn't be 'saving the world' while half dead on her feet.

She stood beside the baggage carousel, waiting for her bag to appear, while at the same time reading the map that gave directions to the apartment complex and trying to survive the stifling heat blown in through the heaters. It didn't help she was decked out in her winter garb, from the thick padded coat right down to the fluffy-trimmed snow boots. She wished for once she'd been a little less prepared.

Noticing that her bag had finally arrived on the conveyor, she stuffed the map into her pocket and shouldered her hand luggage as she slipped around a number of couples still waiting for their own luggage. The minute the bag handle was in reach, she whipped it off the belt and away from the gathered numbers to a more open space so she could reorganise herself.

"Hello, Miss Fong, welcome to the United States." She was startled by the voice suddenly greeting her over her shoulder. The familiar southern accent spun her around to the welcomed sight of U.S. Government agent, Bruce McGivern. It was almost as if he'd materialised out of thin air. She chided herself for not being more aware of people around her, though this time, there was no danger in her laxity.

She'd wanted so much to see him, even for a short time, and was greatly taken back by his sudden appearance. But she was happy, no doubt about it, seeing his dopey smile again - nothing had changed about him at all. He stood before her, slightly rosy cheeked, (due to the weather, she'd guessed) and standing with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"How did y-" She started and stopped, noticing the growing cockiness to his smile, and she sighed, shaking her head. "Your government informed you of my arrival."

"Only by chance, and by God, was I glad to have found out. They were planning on having someone keep an eye on you discreetly. But I doubt you'd have been in any way oblivious to someone following you around. So, when I got wind of your imminent arrival, I offered myself up to keep tabs on you while I'm waiting for my next assignment. I didn't tell them I'd _actually_ make contact with you, but oh well, discreet mission failed. I figured I'd make a better escort and protect you from us crazy Americans."

She tittered lightly, leaning in to him so only he could catch her words. "That's too sweet. A country so afraid of a little China girl such as myself… Did you think I'd come here and do _naughty _things?"

"Maybe... But you know, for me personally, I kinda like the idea." He took hold of the handle of her big bag, urging her to let go of it with a light tug. At first, she resisted, but decided she wasn't awake enough to prove she was woman enough to carry her own luggage and gave in, letting him deal with it. "But my bosses don't like the idea of leaving you unwatched. They don't want you blowing holes in our back garden."

"I didn't realise they were so protective of their chrysanthemums…" She cast him a sly grin before becoming somewhat more serious. "But you don't have to worry. I try to make as little mess as possible when I'm on an assignment."

"I'm glad to hear it. Though…" He brushed shoulders purposely with her, catching her a little off guard. "I really do hope you'll be a little naughty while you're here."

She mock gasped. "Do I sense you have dirty ambitions? What kind of girl do you take me for?"

"Well…" Her nimble fingers took hold of his stubbly chin as she pressed herself extremely close, their lips barely inches apart. She smiled sweetly.

"I can be as naughty as you want… Though, only if _you__'__re_ a good little watchdog."

* * *

Dr Yates arrived at the main security station, piles of work cradled protectively within her arms. She was having to make a quick stop off before going to her lab, not that she really wanted to, but she had a quick task to complete before she could escape to the safety of her own work space. The offices in the security wing were messy and filled with whom she considered vulgar and tactless.

She scurried through the fairly busy area, eyes ahead of her as she veered towards the recreation room, where she could see the person she wanted to speak to.

Sunny Beaumont, second-in-command of the security team and a part of REMEGEN's little private army, was sat with a Styrofoam cup of tea and a plate of toast, listening to the radio on low while she enjoyed the little time she had left before she started her shift that morning. She was a petite and delicate looking British woman with dyed blonde hair a shade away from white. She didn't look like a soldier, though looks could be deceptive in her case. She was as tough as they came - hardy and clever; the kind of girl who enjoyed a little danger in her life. Though that morning, she was just trying to enjoy as much peace and quiet as she could before her shift started. In her tiredness, she remained oblivious to Yates's presence until the woman cleared her throat.

Sunny peered up at the newcomer and raised a enquiring brow. "Looking for Vash?" She asked, referring to the head of security.

"No, I've seen him already this morning. In fact, it was you who I was after."

Sunny didn't look too pleased. "Oh?" She sat back waiting to hear what she probably didn't want to hear.

"Vash has volunteered you to sit in on the presentation this afternoon."

She groaned, almost slamming her face into her plate of toast. "This is all because we got the go ahead for the 'Binder' field operation, isn't it? What do you need _ME_ there for anyway?"

"Representing your fellow soldiers. Besides, your presence makes for a better image in front of the sponsors when we sell the idea to them. They'll want to invest more in a weapon they know other soldiers are happy with."

Sunny didn't seem swayed, but she couldn't find the strength to argue a point out of it all. "Is anybody else from my team going?"

Yates shook her head. "No. Vash said he couldn't spare anyone else."

She cursed inwardly. "Figures." Vash relied a bit too much on her to do the less then desirable work, but whatever helped the company look better in the end made a bigger pay cheque for her at the end of the month. She sighed. "Fine. What time do I need to be there?"

"We start at two o'clock sharp." Finished with what she'd come to say, Yates briskly headed for the door, not wanting to stay longer then she had to.

Just as her hand reached the door handle… "Is it true then?" Sunny asked.

She turned with uncertainty. "What?"

"About what happened the other day…" She was suddenly grinning from ear to ear. "About you and the naked man."

Yates was shocked and flustered, though tried to act indifferent. "I have no idea what y-"

"Bridgman told us. He's even got it on film. I never thought you of all people would have such power over a man to make him rip his clothes off."

She turned her nose up indignantly at her 'inferior' colleague. "You're all too filthy minded for your own good."

"I bet you enjoyed every dirty second he was chasing you around," Sunny went on, glad to watch the other woman squirm. "Was it only a taster, or did you get much more then that later on? How big was _it_?"

"You're disgusting! Think what you like!" Yates snapped and stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door on her way out.

Sunny chuckled to herself and went back to her tea. The thought of Yates pursued by a hot, naked man was almost unimaginable.

They'd wanted a copy of the tape, but Bridgman didn't want to risk his manhood if Yates found out he was selling away her dignity. Apparently though, the situation hadn't lasted very long. When she'd run out of the room having completely freaked out, the 'subject' had put his clothes back on and caused no further problems. Yates was just too socially inept to brush it off as a joke. Anything out of the norm for her sent her running for the hills screaming.

Most of their co-workers even wagered that she'd never again get up close to another naked man for the rest of her life.

Sunny herself had dealt with the amorous approaches of the same 'subject'. He was notorious for his antics when trying to wind up herself and any other women he came in contact with. Most took it in jest and treated him like a cheeky little boy who needed his ego knocking down a peg or two. Sunny, herself, was a little more harsh in shooting him down, and always made sure to put him in his place before he got to 'saucy' with her. She was glad the other 'Binder' subjects were more withdrawn and much less of a hassle.

With only a short time left before she started her shift, she didn't want to spend the last remaining minutes thinking about work, and instead tried to focus on a magazine dated back to a few weeks, checking out what she'd missed on TV and why she didn't care.

Then, the door slammed open and in walked another member of her team. Agrafina - or Agra, to everyone else (a nickname based on the fact she was so aggravating, not that she realised the meaning behind it.) The Russian woman literally crashed into the chair across from her, eyes flaring as they usually did when she was angry - which was nearly all the time.

She was a woman on the edge, barely one step away from the funny farm. Rumour had it she had undiagnosed post traumatic stress disorder from her days at war, though she'd passed all the medicals to say otherwise - though, it didn't stop people questioning nervously about her rather unhinged state.

Though some of her colleagues were uneasy around her, Sunny was not intimidated by the woman in the least. In fact, right then and there, she was furious that Agra had stomped in, ruining the last few moments of peace and quiet she was able to scrape together.

"What is it?" She tossed her cold toast back on the plate and shoved it aside, giving up with it completely.

"Is it true? About the memo?" Agra seethed.

"The one with the orders for the 'Binder' operation?"

"Why am I not on the supervising team? Why am I stuck behind doing paperwork and watching TV monitors all day while everyone else gets to run off and enjoy the action?"

"Because those are the orders." Sunny finished her tea and stood up.

"Every time… EVERY. FUCKING. TIME!" Agra roared as if a great injustice had been served. "I'm always passed over for operations. I am more competent then most of those pencil pushers out there! They're just wannabes who couldn't work a water pistol, let alone a semi-automatic rifle!"

Sunny turned, rolling her eyes so the other woman couldn't see. "Yes, I'm sure you are, but that doesn't change anything. Now if you'll-"

"I don't know why I put up with being demeaned in such a low position! I'm much better then you all give me credit for! Its because Vash doesn't like me? Is that why I end up stuck behind a desk! It's a conspiracy! You've all got something against me!"

"Look, Agra, you'd do well to take your orders and shut up. Questioning authority only lands you scrubbing the urinals and picking pubes out of the men's showers. Frankly, you DON'T do yourself any favours always blowing up in people's faces. If you _ever_ finally decide to calm down, maybe they'll give you a better position of authority, but until then, you're resigned to pencil pushing with the best of them."

Sunny had prided herself in not swearing like she had a severe case of Tourette Syndrome (which usually happened when she was pissed off), though she'd learned over the years when it came to Agra, you always had to be one step ahead of her. Deciding wisely to retreat and find solace patrolling the upper floors on duty, she walked straight out the room without a backwards glance, leaving the woman to her incensed grumbling.

It was probably true they all were against her. She was just too crazy to trust. None of them wanted to go on a mission with her in case they got shot in the back.

Sunny was excited to be going out on an operation. She was anticipating the full details from the man at the top, though she knew for a fact her main role in the mission would just be as a supervisor. Babysitting wasn't her idea of fun, but anything to get her out of the office.

Stepping out of the security wing up to the elevator, she pressed the button to call it down to her floor. It didn't seem to respond at all.

She banged her head against the door with a groan. It was going to be a long day.


	6. Chapter 5

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I can't believe how long I spent over this chapter. It was starting to drive me mad. It wasn't enough that it was the second half of my previous chapter, but that I had to keep reorganising it for the scenes I actually wanted to keep in here and what I thought would work best to keep the flow of the story going. But finally, I've completed it. I will be glad to work on the next chapter and beyond, as the real meat of the story starts from there - just had to set it all up. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 5**

The clock on the cafeteria wall tickly slowly away, every agonising second seemingly just that bit longer then usual. Rebecca shifted her stare between the timepiece and the contents of her cup, trying to lose herself for a moment away from her hectic environment. The hospital was insanely busy - not just that day, but all week long it had been this way. Work was nigh on endless, almost spiralling out of control; there wasn't enough doctors and nurses to cope with the influx. Flu season had hit fast and hard, doubling up the number passing through their doors everyday. It was simply a nightmare to cope with.

Rebecca was enjoying every possible second of her break as best she could, trying to ignore the urgency of the world leading back out of the cafeteria doors. She quietly nursed her steaming cup of coffee while at the same time contemplating eating a cream cake sat temptingly on the plate in front of her. It was almost sinful for her to have bought it, seeing as she'd barely tucked into the sandwiches she'd painstakingly prepared that morning. She tried to put herself off with the thought of all the calories that she'd be shoving down her throat, but then she figured she'd end up walking them off during the rest of her shift anyway and decided without much further hesitation to take a bite. It had been the right choice.

The cafeteria itself, a compacted room cram packed with cheap plastic tables and chairs, was bursting at the seams with doctors, nurses and patients alike. Rebecca kept to herself on her own little table, choosing to watch the scene beyond the glass of the window. A thriving garden existed behind the hospital, there to offer some solace to relatives and patients when they needed it. There wasn't mainly people out walking the path that afternoon, only a nurse pushing a young woman around in a wheelchair - the patient looked too drugged up to care where she was and sat vacantly like a porcelain doll as she was wheeled about.

Rebecca was so preoccupied by the depressing scene, she missed Megan slipping into the seat across from her.

"You're not going to eat that cake all by yourself." Rebecca almost jumped out of her seat at the voice.

"You're like a little mouse!" Hand to her chest, she waited until her heart beat started to settle before she spoke again, ignoring her friend's giggling. "How long have you been there?"

"Only a minute or two." She turned to gaze out the window, looking out to where Rebecca had been gazing. By this time, the woman in the wheelchair was out of sight. "What was so fascinating out there?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just watching life pass me by."

"Better looking out there then in here." Megan eyed the dog-faced cleaner with her bulbous belly meander down the aisles, sweeping as she went. A shudder shot down the young nurses back. Not a pretty sight in the least.

Rebecca shook her head at her companion before suddenly noticing a short, middle-aged woman standing not too far from Megan, looking quite like a spare part. She waited patiently, trying not to look uncomfortable clogging up the narrow aisle.

Rebecca smiled at the woman. "I'm sure she'll introduce us when she remembers you're there."

Megan, in all her scatterbrain glory, turned, gasped and motioned for the woman to grab a seat and join them. "I'm so sorry! My mind is a mile ahead of me today!"

Rebecca raised a brow. "Isn't it always?"

Ignoring the comment, Megan slapped a hand on her friend's back as she sat down. "Rebecca, this is Lola. She started work here last week. Only on a temporary basis though - helping out while we're bogged down with the staff shortages. She's so brave, taking it all on her shoulders."

Lola was a skinny little thing with salt and pepper hair and smile so meek it was almost non-existent. She had a shyness about her, though just enough confidence not to cower away. She offered a dainty hand to Rebecca, who accepted it. The strength behind the shake was surprising - these were workers hands for sure.

"Nice to meet you, Lola."

"A pleasure," Lola's gentle voice returned.

"Lola's new in town and we were hoping to give her a bit of a tour," Megan said, trying to inch a finger towards the plate where the cake sat, which Rebecca promptly pulled back out of reach, giving her a warning glare. "She particularly wants a tour of the mall. I mean, it's the only real highlight of the town."

"It seems like we could make a day of it," Lola spoke up, a touch of excitement evident in her small voice.

"Yeah, you can definitely get caught up in there for hours." Though for Rebecca, that was usually because she was hiding in her favourite book shop and delving into a juicy novel. "When were you thinking of going?"

"Well, I've talked to the girls…" Or Megan's giggling gaggle, as Rebecca liked to call them. Nice enough, but strangely ditzy for a group of nurses. "… And we thought next Wednesday. That's your last day before your vacation, right? We could all go after work as I know we're all so _blessed _with the early shift."

Rebecca pondered quietly for a moment before giving a confirming nod. "Okay, sounds good to me." It would be a nice way to start her vacation. As long as she didn't stay out too long, as the next morning, she flying out to Los Angeles to stay with her parents. At least she wouldn't have to cook for herself for two and half weeks.

With a squeaky cry, Rebecca's pager went off. Looking into the small screen, she sighed. She was wanted on the ward immediately.

"I've got to go. We'll sort out times later."

Megan gave her the 'OK' sign. "Have fun!"

Rebecca got up to leave, and was almost away from the table when she quickly swivelled back around, rushing back to the table to grab her cake before Megan got her hands on it.

* * *

Presentations were make or break situations for a progressing scientist. So much work could go into the project in the test tube, but if it couldn't be presented well, it was hardly going to be taken seriously. This was the big selling point, the time to make all the work worth while - to make a big profit and contribute to the growing field of bio-weaponry.

Cole Bridgman wasn't afraid to handle a presentation. This was the only time he got to show off and nobody could complain about it. It was him under the spotlight, cementing his power and worth in the company. He was a natural speaker, a man of insurmountable confidence - maybe even a little too much. He just loved the attention. But unfortunately, he'd have to share it all with Yates, even if he wished she'd skulk off and stop being a dark cloud over him. To her credit, she'd done as much on 'Binder' as he had, but she was way too serious and blunt. And for a fact, she wasn't much of a saleswoman. She could do the job, but if they wanted it doing right, they needed him on the team. She was the bare facts, he was the charm.

Like an obsessive, Yates was neatly laying out the outline of the presentation on the podium, every page as straight as it could possibly be. It took her attention away from the people gathering towards their seats, and more importantly, Bridgman.

She was in a sulky mood with him. In all honesty, he didn't care. The moodier she was, the better. It made for great entertainment.

Minutes before the presentation was to begin, Sunny finally slipped in, carrying a sandwich and a Styrofoam cup of soup - a late lunch. Yates looked up and just that moment. Their eyes locked. Irritation ensued, mostly when Sunny smiled and winked at her. Bridgman was curious, but decided to steer clear of that war zone.

The brief staring contest lasted only a few seconds before Sunny weaved her way to the back of the room to take up one of the remaining seats.

As Yates stepped away from the podium to check that the projector was working and set up correctly, Bridgman slinked up to the podium, testing the microphone to make sure it was on. A whine echoed around the room, much to the annoyance of the audience. Yates glared over her shoulder at him, not that he cared one single bit.

"Sorry about that, just wanted to know it was working," Bridgman appeased with a toothy grin. "Anyway, I hope you are all seated comfortably. We won't try to take up too much of your time." He turned to Yates, covering the microphone head. "Get the lights, will you?"

"What do I look like?" She hissed lowly. "Your slave?" But she did so anyway, muttering under her breath.

Pleased with himself, he turned back to his awaiting audience, his smile bigger then ever. _Lets get this show on the road!_

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for coming today. I would especially like to thank our guests today, the representatives of our close friends and investing company, ProtoMed. I'm sure you will find this presentation most informative. For the rest of you, the proud employees of REMEGEN, this is a chance to showcase all the hard work you've helped put into the 'Binder' project. For the benefit of out ProtoMed companions, and anyone else not fully aware of proceedings, we shall be presenting a basic outline of the scheduled field battle simulation."

Despite not being the social giant as her companion, Yates decided to insert herself into the lecture before he completely took over. She turned on a smile microphone she had attached to the collar of her blouse, butting in before he could go any further.

"As you all know," she continued for him, glad the room was dark so the audience couldn't read Bridgman's peeved expression. "Mr Hewitt and an associated partner - a private benefactor we only know as 'Hauptperson', finally gave the green light for a field battle test run on the subjects of 'Binder'. Previously, all our tests were conducted as short simulated combat situations, everyone of them controlled onsite in a purpose built arena. Now, we can finally test the capabilities of 'Binder' in a more realistic environment." Behind her, the projection screen lit up, as sorted by a stony faced Bridgman. On the large screen, the pictures of seven men appeared - all different ages and ethnicities. These were the subjects of the 'Binder' project.

"These men," Yates went on, motioning over her shoulder towards the screen, "are all from different training backgrounds. These were men in respectable jobs, valued members of their communities. Each and every one of them had their own unique skills that set them apart from the average man. After death, they became the prime candidates to be fused with the revolutionary 'Binder' virus. Because of all our hard work, they have now all been instilled with two separate coordinating DNA sequences, giving these men the ability to switch between one form to another. The first, their original human form, now enhanced substantially by the virus; and the other, a unique creature augmented specifically to create a distinctive fighting beast. Both forms, useful in their own right, make them exceptional killers."

"Though, these specific modifications are to be kept secret for the time being," Bridgman quickly cut in. "Once we confirm what we know to be true - that these are the perfect super soldiers - more information will be distributed." He shot a genial smile to the three executives of ProtoMed, who were quite intrigued by what was being laid out before them.

"Concerning the upcoming operation," Yates cut back in, glaring at Bridgman. "The subjects will be pitted against a number of modified B.O.W.s. They are specimens created by a subdivision of our viral bio-weaponry team. They have been trying to improve on designs that the company 'inherited' from Umbrella. We have _some_ expectations of their capability in the field, but compared to the 'Binder' subjects, their usefulness ranks very low."

Bridgman stepped back in, desperately wanting to be back in the spotlight. "'Binder' subjects have enhanced healing and strength, _even_ in human form. Recovery time is measured by the extent of their injuries. Even the most traumatic of injuries can be recovered within hours, but even so, they can still reasonably function despite this. They can even recover from fatal injuries." One of the men from the ProtoMed group raised his hand. "Yes, sir?"

"These 'Binder' subjects, are you saying they're, well, immortal?"

Bridgman chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "I've probably overstated myself here. No, they are not immortal. There is only so much punishment they can suffer, but believe you and me, the kind of punishment it takes to destroy them is immense. If we'd created immortals, I think we've have surpassed ourselves a thousand times over. Its enough that we've managed to restore life without creating mindless zombies."

Yates nodded in accordance. "We have created beings with immense power and healing capabilities, each with their own individual gifts. There is still much to learn about their aptitudes, though we are quite assured the more they grow, the greater their skills will be. We believe in the potential of the project, and we hope to gather as much fruitful data as we can from the field battle test."

Bridgman changed the image on the projector image. This time, the images of six people, four men and two women, appeared. One of the pictures, was of Sunny, who tried to pretend to be nonexistent at the back. "For the sake of security, we cannot divulge the location of where the test is taking place. Only a few people are privy to this information. There is also a special requisite to the mission, put in place by 'Hauptperson' - that too, is also classified information." He finally pointed to the people on the screen. "If you will look behind me, you can see the pictures of our team assigned to monitor the operation. They are the members of security, who also take on the role of REMEGEN's private army. Because of the sensitivity of the data stored here, we are constantly under threat from rival corporations, requiring us to have a force that will be able to handle the potential 'nuisances' that come along."

"Leading the battle test," Yates took over, motioning to the image of the hard-faced man in the top left-hand corner, "is head of security, Commander Michael Vash. He is an army veteran with years of experience under his belt and is no stranger to leading a team into dangerous territory." She moved along to Sunny's picture. "His second-in-command is former Royal Military Police officer, Sunny Beaumont. She is a weapons expert and is in control of the teams supplies. Miss Beaumont is with us in attendance today representing the team." She pointed out the woman at the back, trying to enjoy her lunch in peace. Putting on a smile, she raised her Styrofoam cup the audience turning to face her.

"You can rely on us to do the job right," she announced before going back to her soup.

"Glad to hear," Yates said behind a fake smile. "The rest of the team," she indicated the other pictures on the screen, "consist of, former SWAT members Beth Stewart and Clyde Bates, both excellent gunners; former Navy Seal, Alex Roberts, one of the newest members of the team and finally, the formidable communications expert, Chen Kong. Together they will see to it the mission goes as smoothly as possible."

To keep it short and sweet, Bridgman stepped up to wrap things up. "If you have any further questions, we'll be happy to answer them in full with a Q & A session at the end of the day. Now, we have a tour prepared for our guests. If you would like your way back up to the lobby, your guide will be there waiting for you. Thank you very much for coming today, its been a pleasure. We hope that the results we get from the test will further cement your faith in the 'Binder' project and your reason for investing in it."

It didn't take long for the room to empty. It was like a wave of people crashing out the door - more to do with the other employees of the company wanting to escape then the ProtoMed group, who found themselves having to wait patiently for the crowd to subside before they could leave themselves.

Bridgman shook his head. "How kind of them…" He felt like blacklisting a few of his colleagues for their blatant disrespect. Shrugging, he turned to Yates. "That went well."

She didn't respond, instead, just left the room in a huff, still clinging to her sulkiness from earlier. He just rolled his eyes and let her carry her beef like a cow out to pasture.

"Some team player you are, Yates," he mumbled to himself. In the end, he didn't really need her to climb his way to the top. When Hewitt finished kissing the ass of that 'Hauptperson' guy, he would finally notice all the hard work he put into the company. Until then, he'd have to amuse himself with Yates and her social ineptitude.

_Oh, the little pleasures in life…_

* * *

The clock face illuminated softly in the dark. _01:51 a.m._

It was bitterly cold. Fong Ling tugged her silk dressing gown tighter around her body. The apartment manager had turned off the heating at half past ten - three hours in the morning, three hours at night. She could still hear his voice whining nasally in the back of her head. _"People have been wasting money having the heating on all day and not even being in! And they expect US to foot the bill! No, sir! Not anymore!" _He might have been a twitchy, petulant little man, but the apartments he took care of were spectacular; immaculate, as if nobody had ever been in them before. She was a simple girl at heart, with no need of expensive luxuries. The place worked for her simply because it wasn't over-encumbered. Everything that needed to be there was there.

Why she was up at that God forsaken hour was purely her obsession with her work. She wanted to be as clear on all the details as possible. Thus was why she was bravely huddled up around her laptop, the screen emanating the only real light source in the room. She didn't freeze her nipple ends off for nothing.

Behind her, keeping the bed warm, was a sleeping Bruce, buried within the covers like a baby. She tried to be as quiet as possible so not to disturb him, keeping her tapping of the keys to a minimum.

Wesker's image sat to one side of the screen. The man of eternal mystery.

Thoughts of him had been particularly stirred earlier that day when she had sat down to a cup of tea in a little café at the airport. Across from them was a little boy with a book - specifically a 'Where's Waldo' book. She'd only taken interest when the boy had gone berserk with excitement upon finding this Waldo character. When she asked Bruce about it, he explained the premise, saying that his younger brother had had a couple of them. She'd never heard of 'Where's Waldo' before, but the similarities between Wesker and Waldo were uncanny. Like Waldo, Wesker could fade into a background and was annoyingly hard to find. But at least Wesker had better dress sense.

Pictures and words fluttered across the screen as she flittered through the material with frozen concentration. She didn't move a muscle, albeit the movement of her finger on the mouse, click-click-clicking her way through, familiarising herself with every word all over again. With meetings booked over the next week, she had to be prepared. Discussing, hypothesizing, deliberating… everything but making a final decision. Dithering about was what people seemed to do best these days, especially people in power who had a responsibility to do the right thing day in day out.

The American Government was in the same boat as the rest of the world. Helpless but to follow footsteps in the stand, being washed away by an incoming tide. She just hoped they damn well had a feasible plan to follow, otherwise it was going to be a wasted trip.

She yawned quietly into the back of her hand, the stiffness of the cold making her limbs ache like mad. She was neither tired nor fully awake, rather trapped in a hazy limbo. Her mind was in a constant buzz, Wesker's image clearly ingrained inside her head. It was almost as if she'd become obsessed with the man in the last few days, as if she'd developed a sick sense of attachment. But she knew that wasn't really the case. What was to others a bit of a strange infatuation was to her a dedication that put other agents in her field to shame. She liked to get things right, to be the one in control of the game. It frustrated her that no matter how fast she gave chase, he was already ten steps ahead.

Finally frustrated staring at the bright screen, she switched the laptop off and left it to cool down on the side table, carefully tiptoeing back to the bed. Like a snake, she silently slithered between the covers, the heat stemming from Bruce urging her closer to him.

After a moments silence, Bruce's husky voice cut through the dark. "I wondered when you'd turn that thing off."

She lifted her head from the pillow, frowning. "How long have you been awake?"

"Twenty minutes."

"I should have guessed." She coiled herself around him, resting her chin against his shoulder. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You were concentrating so hard, I didn't want to disturb you." He turned to kiss her cheek. "That, and it was cold and I didn't want to get up."

She rolled her eyes, not that he was going to see it. "You coward."

"Its self preservation I assure you." He wrapped his warm hand around her chilled one. "Work on your mind?"

"Always. That's the kind of girl I am. A workaholic." She buried her face into his back. "Wesker is a frustrating man."

"Tell me about it. Look, don't worry. He won't be any further away in the morning then he is now."

"How can you be so sure?"

He shrugged. "I can't, but you can't waste any sleep over him. You'll be no use to anyone if you're dead on your feet."

"You're right… Annoyingly…" She kissed him good night and cuddled up between him and a pillow. She closed her eyes, not that her mind wanted to stop working.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Under the glimmer of twilight, Hewitt quietly poured himself a brandy. The dark amber sloshed around his crystalline glass, emitting a delicate perfume that lured his lips to the brim. In the hush of the room, he could vaguely hear his secretary clacking away at the keyboard of her computer, finishing up the last of her work for the day.

He sunk back into leather recliner and turned to face the window - the scene beyond a piece of picturesque coastline. The sound of the ocean was rather subdued behind the thick glass, but he could hear it clearly inside his head; a sound he'd memorised over the years. The waves splashed against the sands and the cliff edge, leaving a white foam to dance across the rocks. On peaceful nights such as this one, such scenes were enticing.

Tonight, he felt especially happy. All the plans he'd set in place were finally coming to fruition. His project would be tested to its full potential. What's more, they had further advancements to take with 'Binder', especially with the assistance and funding from his private partner.

His benefactor was a shrewd businessman and powerful beyond any measure. In a time of fear and scrutiny within the science community, everyone was trying to keep their heads down, burying their secrets deep within the shadows. Nobody wanted to go the same way as Umbrella, torn down from their former glory. In these uneasy times, REMEGEN had to pretend very hard that they were as white as white to the people it really mattered to, while all the while fighting underground to maintain their power. Unlike Umbrella, Hewitt's company was not full of conniving backstabbers set out to ruin them all for the sake of personal gain.

Sometime about this perilous game they were playing brought out an edge of excitement within him. He was confident he could tackle the world and come out on top. If he could bring the dead back to life (and not simply by accident as zombies), then he could do anything. A God on Earth - sometimes he felt he'd broken some golden rule being in that position, but he was too proud to deny himself the satisfaction of being more then a simple man. He had his workforce to thank for getting him this far, and they were going to be rewarded for many years to come.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if Binder would live up to all his expectations. The field simulation would certainly tell him that and how they may improve on further projects. These subjects were men who'd pushed the boundaries of being mere mortal. They'd been brought back from death and could survive and fight with wounds that would hinder and destroy lesser beings. He had no worries on that front. The B.O.W's that had been through modifications in the last months were a different story - he didn't know how they'd fair. He betted they wouldn't be able to handle his precious 'Binder' soldiers. For a start, they had the benefit of rational thought, something that would help preserve them.

Also, integrated into this test was another little task. A retrieval mission, by the request of his partner. It was not simply a test of his projects, but a test of human life and of human emotion. How far did the human will have to bend before breaking?

The intercom on his desk buzzed loudly in the quiet room. He swivelled around and hit the button.

"Yes, Miss Phelps?"

"An important call for you on line one, Mr Hewitt. Its Mr. 'Hauptperson'."

He set his brandy glass down. "Alright. Put it through."

There was a click before his telephone began to ring. He put the phone onto speaker and leaned back in his chair.

"This is Hewitt."

"Good evening, Mr Hewitt," a deep smooth voice greeted.

Hewitt smiled, and leaned forward onto his desk, netting his fingers together. "Ah, good evening, Mr Wesker. We have much to discuss tonight."


	7. Chapter 6

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I have been working on this chapter way too long, enough that I thought I would never finish it. But I've been determined, as this is the turning point for the story. I'm excited that I'm up to the point I've been fleshing out for a lot time, the part that I'm determined to get right. I hope this chapter will give you some anticpation for what's to come...**

**Chapter 6**

_[Thought Book - Property of Alejandra Gallo.]_

_[If lost, please return to the return to the Chief Nurse's Station, The Private Hospital, Floor B2.]_

_**January 8**__**th**__** 2003**_

_Dr. Bridgman came down this morning and dropped a folder on my desk. He said Mr. Hewitt wanted me to do full medicals on their subjects in the 'Binder Program'. I was a little surprised they'd asked me to do anything like this. I've had practically no involvement and only know a few basic details of the project - its all so hush-hush and dealt with under high security. The drugs that I'm instructed to give them on a daily basis are classified - I have no idea what's in them! They simply tell me its to 'help against any side effects caused by the experiments and keep them calm'. Something about it makes me not want to give it to them, but if something were to happen after all their successful research, who knows what would happen to me._

_I still think its genius that they have created something that can bring people back from the dead. I heard the company, Umbrella, had done something similar but the whole process was a failure, creating only mindless drones. I saw a video once - a really bad quality one - from the Raccoon City incident. The resurrected people looked like nothing more then zombies._

_But REMEGEN's subjects are as normal as can be… But I'm still unsure. For all the drugs and security kept on them, normal might be a questionable word._

_I heard a rumour that they might be modifying the 'virus' they used on them to help combat cancer, maybe even creating the most effective cure in history. But its all being kept under a tight lid. Nobody outside REMEGEN is allowed to know about the 'Binder Program'. It makes you wonder about all the secrets they're keeping._

_But I find its better not to ask. Sometimes I hear some strange things go on below in the secured levels of this place. Its freaks me out that some of the experiments might be more sinister._

_Too many late nights and a wild imagination, maybe? I should just be wondering why they are asking me to do these thorough medicals…_

_**January 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

_The resident psychiatrist, Dr. Pollock, turned up today. He is conducting his psychiatric evaluation on the 'Binder' subjects throughout the next few weeks. He expects me to complete my reports by the end of the month so the bosses know they have 'the all clear to go ahead'… Whatever that means._

_He also seemed to get annoyed that I was playing my radio while I was working, but he's not my boss and the atmosphere in this place can be so depressing. I ignored his snide comments and he went off, acting as if I was being insubordinate. _

_The guy is a pest, thinking he's better then everyone else. But he's just a irritating little man who wears cologne that smells like cat pee. The nurses always openly joke about him so he rarely ever shows up in the hospital. Thank you, God, you really are good to me._

_**January 14**__**th**__** 2003**_

_One of the 'toy soldiers' - better then calling them 'Binder subjects' - came in for his examination today. He's constantly referred to as '1G', but I like calling him 'cutie', only to try and make him smile. He does have a wonderful smile when he does, but you have to work hard for it. He's the youngest member of the group, and seems the most vulnerable. I try to offer as much comfort to him as possible, as it seems very few people in the company seem to care much about their wants and needs outside of all their tests and whatnot._

_He is another tick in the A1 box, though I don't know how he will fare in his psychological evaluation. Poor guy - he's such a lovely person, it seems almost unfair he's kept a prisoner in this place. I don't particularly know his interests, but I gave him a couple of magazines I'd pulled off the shelf when I was out grocery shopping on my night off. A mixture of stuff really, but mostly filth. Honestly, I don't know what men really like - all I know is cars and naked women. He was appreciative, maybe just because someone actually showed they cared. I'm betting a lot of money he's the bashful type and will give the porn to one of the others…_

_**January 15**__**th**__** 2003**_

_Subject 1A: he's hilarious. He was telling me today about the pranks he's pulled on Dr. Yates. He really likes to tease that woman, but she is such an easy target after all. So stiff and stuck up. I'm glad she rarely crosses my path._

_He is quite a good looking guy, and its fun to flirt with him, as he is quite the horny little devil - not my words exactly, but the nurses are always saying that about him; though, saying that, they're not exactly enamoured with him themselves and tend to leave dealing with him to me, keeping a wide berth. He does come on a bit strong, and once he actually frightened one of the more meeker nurses to locking herself in the storage cupboard. I can't remember now exactly what he said to her, but he did look very distressed afterwards, asking if he could apologise to her, but Sunny from security had him whipped off before he could do so. She's the only one who seems to be able to deal with him in some capacity._

_I was pretty annoyed when she shouted at me for putting someone so incapable in charge of him and that I myself was unable to make rational decisions. I think she's just jealous that I get on so well with him. She probably likes all his attention, but I'm sure she'd knock me out if I ever said such a thing out loud. _

_**January 22**__**nd**__** 2003**_

_Finally, those damned reports are done. All as accurate and informative as they're going to get. I'm furious that its taken me until nearly half ten at the night to finish the last one, but it has been a hectic day. I hate stock checking. There was suspicion going around that someone was stealing from the drugs cabinet. It turned out to be false._

_My bosses want the report to be perfect, so I spent extra time making sure I'd covered everything. I got a message from the top saying they had important tests to run at the start of February and wanted my reports in by the 30__th__ promptly. I've spent way too much time on this stuff already and am really glad to beat the deadline._

_There is a lot of noise in the ward tonight, as a few researchers are bed ridden with the flu. I'm sure they're not too bothered about being stuck here - most of them hardly ever go home anyway._

_As for me, going home sounds fantastic. I've got the day off tomorrow, a much needed one after the long hours I've been putting in. I'll probably order in a takeaway and catch up on some of the shows I'd recorded over the last month. _

_I just want a life, but its hard to sometimes - this place sucks you in. I want to feel like a person and not like a tiny cog in a huge machine. I don't get how people can get so consumed by their work here. Its inhuman. I hope I'm not going to be corrupted._

_Me? A workaholic? Not in this lifetime._

* * *

The balls of her feet ached in time to the throbbing pain shooting up and down her delicate ankles. Poor Rebecca just couldn't keep up with the 'giggling gaggle', already traipsing around the fifteenth or sixteenth boutique… or even seventeenth. She'd lost count a long time ago. It had been so long since she'd gone shopping with them that she'd forgotten about their torturous marathons around the mall.

After a gruelling morning shift, she certainly was in no shape to keep up with them. This was no retail therapy she'd ever experienced, that was for sure.

The 'gaggle' - Charlotte, Jennifer and Bethany-Ann - were nowhere to be seen. They'd moved on from the store she'd thought they were in and was left trying to pick up the trail. It didn't help that they seemed to move at the speed of light between places. Eventually, feeling completely stumped, she gave up the search and instead went to find a bench to collapse on.

She bumped into Megan at the bottom of the escalator.

"Where you heading to?" She playfully demanded. "Not trying to sneak off, are you?"

"I need to recharge my batteries. I'll just be down here. Come find me in a while when everyone wants eat."

"Okay! Later then!" And she disappeared up the escalator.

The 'gaggle' were nice enough, but at the same were rather generic gossip girls only interested in fashion and celebrities. She really had nothing much in common with them at all.

The bench was between a section of sports and electronic stories and not too far away from the food court. At least she wouldn't have that far to walk to eat when they were all ready. The burning in her feet only got more intense when she sat down; elevating the pressure wasn't to her advantage. Along with her tightened calves and knotted back, she felt like she was falling apart at the seams.

Inwardly apologising to anyone who came within a few metres of her, she pulled off her shoes, trying to wiggle some life back into her toes. She liked her shoes, stylish with not too big a heel, but they did her no favours if she spent all day on her feet running around. Grimacing, she prayed that she wouldn't be cursed with blisters the next day when she was set to travel to her parents house.

_Oh well, _she thought. _Mom is going to pamper me like a princess when I get there, so I'll have plenty of time to rest my feet._

Descending the escalator she'd stepped from, was another painfully exhausted figure. Lola looked more overwhelmed then Rebecca by the shopping trip; her half dead expression said it all.

Rebecca felt very sorry for her. She hadn't had a clue what she was getting herself into joining them on the outing. She'd been quietly perky to begin with, now she was glum and worn as she dumped herself onto the bench next to her. Rebecca offered her a comforting smile, not trying to engage her in conversation to begin with as she seemed to be too busy reeling from the whole experience. From her purse, the meek looking woman shakily pulled out an inhaler and took a puff. Shortly after, the colour started to return to her cheeks.

When she wasn't being dragged around like an accessory, Rebecca loved the mall. Three levels of shopping heaven, providing everything a person could ever need within its four walls. It was also the only mall in the local area, offering helpful commerce to the three small local towns near Opal Cross. It was also a job opportunity for students attending the very isolated college just outside of town.

Rebecca tucked her feet under her, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling far above her. She'd never noticed until then that the glass in the roof was inset in an oval shape.

Lola's small voice made her jump after the length of silence between them. "They make you feel so old, those girls. Where do they get their energy from?"

"I know what you mean. Their drive is abnormal."

"Is it even possible to get used to it?"

"Believe me, I always think that one day I'm going to keep up with them. And what happens? I end up crashed out on a bench like this, wondering why I keep fooling myself. They'll eclipse you, no matter how much you will yourself to keep up the chase."

Silence drifted between them once again, lacking for a flowing conversation and still trying to find whatever energy they had left to talk.

"Are you thirsty at all?" Lola suddenly said; she had just noticed the coffee stand at the entrance to the food court.

"Oh, uh, I think a cappuccino wouldn't go amiss right about now." She reached for her bag to get some money out, but Lola shook her head in response.

"Don't worry, its on me."

Unable to persuade her to accept any cash, Rebecca thanked her companion profusely before sinking back down into her seat. She stretched out her legs, putting her feet flat on the cold floor. It was pretty sharp a feeling even with her stockings on, but at the same time, it was relieving. She promised her poor, agonised feet that they wouldn't be doing this again for a while.

It didn't take long for Lola to return with their drinks.

"One cappuccino, as requested."

Rebecca accepted the warm cup gratefully, clutching it almost affectionately to her chest. The extra warmth was always welcome with the weather as it was outside, a cold so bone-chilling that she felt she might shatter like glass if exposed too long. She blew gently into the frothy liquid, inhaling the scent with veneration. How long had it been since she'd last had a cappuccino? It could have been yesterday for all she knew with how wrapped up her mind had been lately.

Lola mimicked her, blowing more brutally into the surface of her coffee. After taking a very tentative sip, she turned towards the young doctor, who was still judging whether it was safe to take a sip of her own. "I hope you don't mind me bringing it up…" The words drew Rebecca's gaze to her inquisitively. Lola couldn't hold the gaze, and instead focused on her drink. "… But… I heard about your unfortunate incident from the other girls on the ward. I think its dreadful what you've been through. Its awe astounding that you seem to be coping so well. If it were me, I'd have bolted the windows and doors and stayed hidden under my bed-" She noticed Rebecca looking expressionlessly into her own drink and she started to flush with embarrassment, her voice rising in a guilty panic. "I'm so sorry! You didn't want to hear that! I'm so stupid sometimes. I'm just no good when it comes to conversation."

Rebecca offered a compassionate smile. "Its fine, really. I'm not surprised to hear that they've been openly gossiping about it."

"Oh, don't get them wrong. They spoke very sympathetically. They seem to worry a lot for you." Lola shook her head. "I'm not taking sides, you understand. They shouldn't be gossiping, but… oh, I'm just getting myself in a muddle now… Its not my intention to annoy you…"

Rebecca took a lengthy sip of her drink under the sombre gaze of her companion. "I understand what you mean. It can be a two sided coin. And don't worry, I'm not annoyed at you at all." She licked a layer of foam from her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders. "Besides, I've had worse things happen to me in my life that its simply very pale in comparison."

"Nothing you would want to talk about?" Lola seemed intrigued, but didn't look as though she was willing to pry.

"No." Rebecca offered her a rueful smile. "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry? Its none of my business." They enjoyed a few moments of peace, watching people pass to and fro as they drank their drinks. The air between them seemed a lot lighter. "I don't like to talk about my life all that much really. I find it rather sad and dull."

"Your life can't be that bad, can it?"

"Oh, I'm not saying its bad, more that its uninteresting."

"Maybe one day you'll bore me with the details," Rebecca joked playfully. Lola accepted the statement in good humour, and chuckled in response.

"Yes, maybe."

Skirting the first floor walkway, the 'giggling gaggle' seemed to be on the move again. Both women eyed up cautiously, pausing mid drink as they waited for them to pass before looking at each other. They ended up laughing at each other's almost frightened expressions.

"Its almost like a strange horror movie!" Rebecca said amid her giggles.

"Death by shopping would be interesting to see on a post mortem."

Rebecca had a terrible feeling they might come their way any minute and covered her face exasperatedly. "I'm so sick of shopping. I'm just so tempted to try and make an escape…"

"Why not? I won't tell." Lola kept looking out to see if the girls were anywhere in their region. Lucky for them, they weren't.

"I couldn't do that…" She paused, bit her lip and turned to her companion. "Though… I did really want to go catch up on some reading at the bookstore." Rebecca looked disconcerted. "But they wouldn't let me go there even if I wanted to. Its not their scene."

"Well, why don't you go anyway, and I'll tell them you've gone home early because, uh, your mother called or something."

Devious, but so good, Rebecca couldn't help but be drawn in by the plan. "But what about you? I couldn't just leave you with them."

Lola just smiled. "Don't worry about me. Its a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Not waiting for her to change her mind, Rebecca hurriedly gathered her things, finished off her drink, and tossed the cup into the trash. "I owe you one. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Its no trouble. Now go, before they can try to stop you."

Parting on a wave, Rebecca quickly hurried through the busy crowds, feeling like a criminal making a getaway to freedom.

* * *

It was a bleak lonely landscape, beautiful in its own bizarre way; grassy pastures sugar-coated in a frost like the final touches to a cake; pale grey skies lightly blotted with wispy clouds. The scene was only marred by a strip of harsh looking tarmac cutting across the in the near distance. It belonged to the glider centre, which was shut for the season, though a small propeller driven plane was just that moment rolling onto the strip preparing for takeoff. It seemed like some people were taking advantage of the quiet period.

Jill watched the little craft, its chunter the only thing to break the airy silence. It was welcoming to a have a little noise fill the almost abyss-like existence of the place. She hated being based out in the middle of nowhere, but the more secretive the place, the better. After a while, the little craft took off, leaving the austere environment behind. She watched it until it faded to nothing.

Beside her, sitting downwind, Chris quietly smoked a Marlboro, he too having been caught up in the spectacle of the plane's departure. Every now and then he would pick up a can of coke sat on the wall beside him and take a small sip, but primarily he was out there to smoke. Jill on the other hand was utilising their lunch break for what it was actually for and every now and then took a bite of a warm buttery chicken bagel she had prepared herself.

They were very much alone for the moment. One or two might have still been inside the building behind them, but most had taken the time to drive into town to find food. Usually she would be the same, relishing the drive into civilisation just to get away from their drab office. It looked like a prison block and wasn't the most cosy of environments to spend days on end in, but it served its purpose. Today however, she didn't have the energy to drive. The wall they sat on and their chalky-looking surroundings sufficed just this time.

A thick mist, a mixture of icy breath and smoke, passed from between Chris's thin lips as he took the last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall. "You know what," he said, speaking for the first time in over fifteen minutes. "When I retire, I'm going to buy a place where the scenery is always worth looking at. A place like this is just way too miserable to spend day in day out. Just grass and concrete…"

"Its bland, yeah, but at least it's a pretty honest looking place." She gave her companion a sour look when she noticed he was lighting up another cigarette. "You're not going to make it to retirement the way you go through smokes. You're like chimney stack."

"I lead a risky life anyway, what's one extra cigarette going to do?"

"One extra cigarette he says…" It was true, they lead a very complicated and dangerous life trying to unravel the bioterrorist underworld. Whose to say they wouldn't be dead tomorrow, or the day after, but then again, even the most careful of lives could end without warning. It was better to be doing something worthwhile then nothing at all.

Jill stopped chewing, contemplated his first comment, resumed her chewing and swallowed. "Retirement… You're thinking way too far down the line."

"Its more of a fruitless hope, you know…"

"Retirement?"

"Yeah."

"One day, but who knows. We're back to the risk factor again. We'll just have to wait and see." On the subject, it made her wonder if it would ever end. But that was too deep a subject to delve into without feeling dejected at the weighty problems they would have to deal with now and in the coming years.

"Until then, I'll just keep dreaming of the private beach with the gorgeous women…"

Jill rolled her eyes, finishing off her bagel. _Typical man thoughts._

He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette, turning to her. "Have you ever thought about what you want to do when you've finished fighting for good?"

"I've never really thought about it all that much. I like to live more for the here and now, myself."

"You hope to retire young?"

"Pfft… I'd be so lucky."

Cars could be heard pulling up onto the front parking lot, indicating their co-workers were returning from their break.

Jill stood up, brushing off her behind. "I'm heading in. Its getting a bit too cold for me to stay out here."

"I'm going to enjoy the peace and quiet a little bit longer. Not very often we get it." He emptied the contents of the cola can and crushed it in his hand. "Besides, got this cigarette to finish off."

She patted his shoulder. "Enjoy the peace for the both of us." He gave her a thumbs up in response and she turned and walked across the short distance towards the building's back entrance. She turned as she reached the door, staring at Chris's back as he reclined somewhat, Marlboro planted firmly between his lips as he sat staring out at the nothingness.

In this world, peace was something that came and went in the blink of an eye, but when it was temporarily obtainable, it was worth clinging onto, no matter what form it came in.

Without a word, Jill found herself lured back, returning to the wall. Chris looked up at her as she sat back down, but said nothing, instead just smiled, one which she returned in full.

And there they sat, just for a while longer, enjoying what would soon become an idyllic memory.

* * *

A large stack of books were piled neatly on the table in front of her, some a definite buy and the others a mere temptation. Right now, Rebecca had her nose stuck in the first chapter of a book she'd wanted a taster of, just to decide whether or not it could be a future purchase.

A couple in the pile were a few bizarre comedy stories she liked to pick up on the odd occasion, but for the most part she just loved mindless romance; the drama and passion of a relationship born on paper thin excuses and the turmoil of steamy affairs begging for disaster. Sometimes she wished she was the sexy, confident temptress that resided in such novels, the one that everyone wanted…

She had to laugh at herself - laugh at the absurdity of wishing she was someone else. Being honest about her own personality, she liked the way she was, though wished she could be just that little more confident.

Flicking over to the next page, she felt more and more relaxed as she stretched out across the leather two-seater hidden away at the back of the store between the travel literature and foreign languages shelves. There was very little to come between her and her story, with very few people venturing down that aisle. It was mostly quiet around her, besides the shuffling of feet about the store and the odd cough and mumble every now and again.

By the second chapter into her book, she was drawn in by the allure of the mysterious dark, handsome stranger who'd just rescued the main heroine from certain death. Just as she was daydreaming about filling the young woman's position, captivated by her enigmatic saviour, when she suddenly started to feel an aching in her stomach. It was the same kind of feeling as if she hadn't eaten for a whole day.

She tried to think back to when she'd last eaten. Just before lunch? Breakfast? She couldn't be sure - she'd been so busy that day. It wasn't a feeling she could simply ignore though; a tightness was setting in, a pain that made her insides feeling like they were burning up. She closed the book, putting it atop her stack, now feeling intensely queasy.

_I hope I'm not coming down with something… _Gathering her things, she got to her feet, knowing she needed to get herself to a bathroom post-haste.

By the time she's reached the front doors of the store, the nausea was at the base of her throat; her head was now starting to throb, joining in with the assault of aches and pains beginning to spread throughout her body. She couldn't work out what was going on - why did she suddenly feel so bad? The symptoms were like nothing she'd ever experienced nor could diagnose - not that she could think properly as she walked down the first floor walkway. Her brain overloaded with too many sensations; she only had enough focus to lead her body robotically towards the bathrooms.

The odd person passing her by gave her a funny look, tough none stopped to ask her whether she was alright or not. It didn't bother her; she had no intention to stop. She just had to keep going, despite her head starting to spin, making it extremely hard for her to walk in a straight line.

It was just around the corner, the first door on the right. Though feeling weak, she just about managed to push the bathroom door open, tentatively stepping inside.

There were a few women washing their hands, chatting merrily between themselves. None paid her any attention though, too busy caught up in their own lives.

Wobbling across the tiles, her hazy vision scanned for a free cubicle, but everyone of them was engaged. Just that moment, she caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror at the sinks. Her face was completely colourless.

Luckily, she found there was one free cubicle left vacant. A disabled toilet. She practically fell inside, locking the door with a slam behind her. By now, her vision was completely blurred, and she was hardly able to make out the toilet in front of her. Her belongs were tossed aside as she collapsed to her knees, clutching the edges of the bowl. She trembled, her stomach churning painfully inside her. She felt desperately ready to be throw up, but her throat was suddenly so tight, stopping anything from coming up.

Then everything began to move in slow motion. She was falling. Her reaction was quick enough to push herself away from the bowl so she wouldn't hit her head.

Her voice was gone. She couldn't call for help.

She lay sprawled atop her coat where it had fallen prior, noticing the cold of the tiles starting to seep through the thick material. It felt amazingly good.

There was hope inside her distressed body that the feeling would quickly pass, that the icy floor would help elevate some part of this strange illness. It was too little too late for her to realise she was going to pass out, though her last thoughts before she was blanketed by comforting darkness was that she didn't feel sick anymore.

* * *

_**You Have 1 New Message!**_

Fong Ling had not long set her laptop down to charge after an arduous meeting when suddenly the screen blinked, bleeping to indicate the note. Having exhausted herself going over the Wesker case, she was almost tempted not to read it until after a power nap.

Of course, she knew despite how bushed she felt, she wouldn't be able to switch off. She was buzzing with case information, having gone over every last detail with her comrades in the American government - retracing, re-evaluating - searching for that missing vital clue.

She sighed, sitting down in front of her laptop, clicking to access the message. She crossed her fingers, praying for a new lead.

And it was.

Her face lit up with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

Finally, another clue on the trail after Albert Wesker.

Attached to the writing was a picture of reasonable quality, of a woman of Japanese origins and a rather skinny Western man in a business suit, with a disgusting coloured tan. There was something rat-like about the way he looked in the picture. She instantly took a dislike to him.

_Creepy little man… _But her interest lay more with the woman. She was distinctly beautiful with short hair, worn slightly longer on one side of her face then the other. Her face in particular gave Fong Ling's arms goosebumps. The expression was as cold as ice.

The written contents were confident:

_**During a raid on an underground cartel that ran an operation of hiring out hitmen to vetted clients, information was found to their having a previous connection to Albert Wesker.**_

_**Most of the old client and employee lists were destroyed after a set amount of time to protect both parties, though one particular file was mistakenly retained, and indicated that during the July of 1998, Wesker employed the services of a woman working for the cartel under the codename, 'Red Winter'. Her primary services were listed as miscellaneous, and it is not clear what she was hired to accomplish. She had since left the cartel and the only trace of her identity was a photo we managed to uncover, though when we checked it against our database, no matches were found. We believe from what we've discovered during the interrogation of one of the cartel leaders that even after she completed her services to Albert Wesker, that she was involved in further operations with him outside of the cartel's financial control. **_

_**An investigator stumbled across the woman in North West America earlier this week. Her appearance was different, but he was certain that she was who we were looking for - this was later confirmed when we ran this picture he took and her original picture through our computers. The man in the photo is the well known writer, Nicolas Underwood. **_

_**It is not sure what business she has with Mr Underwood, but we're hoping that he might be able to help us track her down for questioning, as she disappeared once more after this sighting.**_

Fong Ling was brimming with renewed optimism. She glanced down at Underwood's address attached at the bottom, a small smile pricking her lips.

_Mr Underwood, you and me are going to have a little chat… _

* * *

It was like a light flashed back on. One minute black, the next, light and clear.

Rebecca slowly blinked at her surroundings, her head pounding like a drum. She didn't move, still trying to remember exactly where she was.

It didn't take long for the memories to come flooding back. She was in the ladies bathroom, lying on the floor of a cubicle.

Though she had a headache, she found nothing else to be wrong with her. Her vision was clear, stomach calm. After the strange, wild symptoms that had taken over her before, she was surprised she felt so normal again. She took her time to sit up, just in case.

Thankfully there was no dizziness or other strange symptoms to contend with, so she carefully got back to her feet, reaching to gather her things. She shivered, dusting off her coat before clutching it tightly against her chest. It was suddenly so very cold.

_I don't get it? What happened to me? _So sudden the sickness had come and gone, it was like nothing real. Maybe it had all been in her head - the stress of work and her life in recent times. Trying not to worry herself any further, she decided she needed to get herself home quickly, to where she felt at least a little safer.

With a quivering breath, she opened the cubicle door and stepped out.

She was a little surprised to see an 'Out of Order' sign hung up on the door. _I don't remember that being there before? _But in truth, she'd hardly been paying attention before she'd raced into the cubicle.

The bathroom was completely empty, all the other cubicles vacated. She was pretty glad nobody could see her now, looking so pale and dishevelled.

She slowly ambled around the corner to the sinks, dumping her belongings onto the counter as she ran the cold water tap. She tried to avoid looking at her complexion in the mirror, after catching the briefest of glances that said she looked extremely fatigued.

She cupped her hands beneath the faucet, catching a pool of icy water and quickly splashed it against her face. The sharp coldness did the trick, making her feel much more alive. Taking a little sip to wet her dry mouth, she fumbled through her purse to retrieve a mint. It was good for keeping a settled stomach.

Besides a few specks of dirt on her clothes, she didn't look too worse for wear, and the colour was at least starting to return to her cheeks. She hurriedly ran a comb through her hair, just to get it looking a bit more respectable before deeming herself decent enough to face people again.

She slipped on her coat as she headed for the door, shouldering her bag as she stuffed her comb back inside.

Stepping out the door, she came to a dead stop.

It was almost surreal, as if she were dreaming. _Why is it so dark? No wait, why is it so quiet?_

Shaking her aching head, she stepped out onto the first floor walkway, looking around her with disbelief. A chill ran through her like a lightning bolt.

Around her, the stores and walkways were barely lit, leaving the area in a eerie dimness. Not another soul seemed to exist in this gloomy space with her. Her own breathing and the hum of the ventilation system were the only sounds to flitter around inside the huge mall. Everything was closed, display windows dark. It was like she'd been abandoned in the twilight zone. The emptiness was beyond unnerving.

Rebecca Chambers hated to think it, but she knew it was true. She was absolutely, utterly alone.


	8. Chapter 7

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**Chapter 7**

The rumble of wheels on tarmac resonated down the quiet road. Two unmarked black haulage trucks hurtled with intent towards the outskirts of the peaceful town of Opal Cross.

Under the cover of night, the two vehicles moved like shadows through the darkness. On the outside, they appeared to be like any other normal truck going about a nightly run, though on the inside, they were far from normal. Their concealed interiors were decked out like portable military command centres, manned by men and woman suited up for battle.

Their radios were alive with activity, conversation persistently bouncing back and forth between the two vehicles as they powered on through the night towards their destination.

"What's the update on the situation, Kong?" The gruff voice behind the question belonged to an inquisitive Vash.

"The biohazard handling team have completed their preparations and will be releasing the B.O.W.s onto the test grounds shortly."

"Make sure they remain there in case any of the experiments try to escape."

"Its already arranged, Chief. They'll be remaining on site throughout the test and will organise the clean up operation afterwards."

"Good."

"I just got word from Unit B, Chief," Kong went on. "Their take off was delayed due to mechanical issues with the helicopter. They've managed to resolve the problems now and are in the air. They'll arrive at the destination approximately an hour and a half after our own arrival."

Vash clucked his tongue with annoyance, but didn't make too much of a big deal over it. "That's unfortunate, but I doubt it will cause any problems for the test. Just make sure they keep regular updates so we know the situation at all times."

"Yes, Chief."

"Has Agra linked up with you from headquarters yet?"

"We'll have full connection with them in ten minutes. We are still tapping the feed from the test grounds so they can see and hear everything as we do. When she gets in touch, I will restrict the connection so nobody else can pick up any of our transmissions."

Another voice suddenly entered the conversation. It was Sunny, sounding mostly shocked. "Vash, seriously? Agra in charge of communications at headquarters? Whose idea was that?"

"Hewitt's, so I wouldn't go making a fuss if I were you. Anyway, shouldn't you be going over the equipment list with the _troops?_"

"I was waiting for you to give the word, uh, sir…" She cleared her throat, focusing back on her duty. "Okay, I hope all the little toy soldiers are listening carefully to what I'm about to say. Its not going to be a short list and I _won't _be repeating myself twice, you got that?"

Her audience gave acknowledging grunts and half hearted mumbles, which was good enough for her. Once it fell quiet again, she continued on.

"Right, I'm sure most of you are suited up now in your combat gear, but just to make sure you've got everything you've been issued, pay attention. You should have with you the following: A reinforced ballistics vest, attached to which you will find an army issue combat knife and two flash bangs in the top right breast pocket. You've also been issued with a protective helmet which has an inbuilt radio, which you can voice activate. The code words used to send messages back to the communications centre and to your comrades are listed on a separate sheet attached to your map."

A lot of muttering and rustling entered the background as one of the soldiers could be heard to complain about not having a map. After a barrage of insults coming from another female voice, it seemed the issue was quickly sorted out.

"All good, Beth?" A faint response indicated so, much to Sunny's gratitude. "Right, moving on, you'll also notice that you have been provided with specialist protective goggles - these can be automatically switched from normal vision to night vision or infra red. You also have an air-purifying respirator, which will cover the lower part of your face. Please keep this on at all times even if the situation doesn't seem to call for it. Okay, now that we've sorted that out, we get onto the fun part, boys. The firearms." The reaction she got was mostly sarcastic, but she didn't allow it to bother her. "Your standard firearm is the Heckler & Koch P2000 semi-automatic pistol. You each have four spare clips of ammo for this weapon. Its more of a fallback gun in case you run out of ammo for your main weapon - the M16A3 rifle. This weapon can be used as semi or fully automatic. You only get two cartridges with this, so you should consider your situation before you decide to go all trigger happy with it."

"Is all that covered now?" Vash asked after a short period of silence.

"Oh, one more thing," she quickly put in. "If you lose your maps, I'll shoot you in the shins."

Vash loudly cleared his throat. "Right, thank you, Sunny…"

"You don't hold much respect for your company, do you, Miss Beaumont?" A new female voice interjected. The thickly accented words rolled out smoothly albeit coldly.

Sunny huffed. "You know, it was nice believing for a moment that you weren't _actually _here. Why don't you go back to being quiet and keep your pointless observations to yourself. Actually, what _are_ you doing here anyway?"

"Sunny, shut your mouth," Vash scolded. "Aka is here on behalf of Mr. Hauptperson."

Sunny scoffed, allowing some of the annoyance to leave her voice, but it was obvious that she sounded somewhat jealous of the other woman. "Lovely. So, _Miss Aka_, I'm sure you're wanting to say something now that you've broken your silence."

Vash cut over Sunny, addressing the other woman more respectfully. "You have other information for this briefing, Aka? Is that right?"

"Yes, I was made privy to some vital information for this mission that I am now able to reveal to you all."

"Please, go ahead."

"I'm sure everyone is aware of the main objective of this mission. To collect test data from the performance of the 'Binder' subjects. This performance will evaluate the progression of this project and add to its future development. My boss is very interested in how the subjects will cope in the situation, physically and mentally, and how much control they have over the virus. During this test, I will remain in the communication centre, recording my own data from video and radio feedback so I can deliver my own personal report to Mr. Hauptperson. Now that we are moments away from commencing this test, the prerequisite requested by my boss can now be made known. There is a woman who will be residing in the test grounds. I must stress that she will not be the only human there, so be aware of what you're shooting at. I am still not obliged to reveal the full identity of this woman, but you will know the target when you see her. She has been trained with firearms so do not take her lightly, as it can be assumed that she may react hostilely. Your mission is to retrieve this woman by any means necessary… alive or dead. This is a request of a high priority. Do _not_ fail."

* * *

Very little warmth passed through the vents. The system had either been switched off or was not working properly, though it seemed more like the former. Rebecca clutched her coat tightly together for dear life, trying to preserve what heat she could as she moved through the chilly mall. The temperature as much as her abandoned surroundings turned her blood icy cold with unease.

She had not look discovered the time when stopping at an intersection of the walkways on the first floor.

It was half eleven at night.

A part of her felt stupid for ending up locked in the place, but it wasn't as if she did it on purpose. That mysterious illness that had briefly struck her earlier had been to blame, though she was surprised nobody had even thought to check the cubicle was in. _Wasn't it a security thing to make sure nobody was hiding out after closing? _Something was niggling her about her situation, something that said trouble was on the horizon.

Feeling inherently trapped, she found herself drawn towards one of the two only light sources in the building. One was coming from the twenty four hour gym far across the way, both its ground and first floor facilities lit up. Unfortunately for her, the chequered shutters was pulled down over both of the frosty glass fronts, meaning it could only be accessed from the outside, which didn't help her one bit. The other light, in which she was now approaching, was softly illuminating from the front of the bookstore she had been in earlier.

As looked around, she noticed with some confusion that not all of the store fronts had their shutters pulled down. There was something particularly odd about it.

_Why aren't they all locked up properly?_

She approached the glass double doors of the store, peering in to find that the light was coming from a partially open door to a back room, leaving a soft yellow glow to illuminate the quiet, empty store. Gently, she pushed on one of the doors. It opened without resistance.

"Hello?" She called out softly, hoping she could find someone around to elevate her anxiety.

Nobody responded.

With cautious steps, she crossed through the store towards the back room, keeping her guard up for anything peculiar. After past experiences, she never took any situation lightly.

'Staff Room' was indicated on a plate on the half open door. Pushing it, the hinges squeaked loudly as it swung slowly back, light spilling out into the darkened store. Her eyes adjusted to the blaring brightness as she took a step into the room. Sadly for her, nobody was around.

It was a typical messy room, that saw regular use and abuse. The scattering of old magazines and dirty coffee cups wasn't of a welcoming nature, but it certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. Someone could have easily left the light on and gone home without a second thought. But the store was unlocked and no alarm set. That itself, was peculiar enough to have her on edge.

She stepped through the small room to a door at the back. Pushing it open, it revealed one of the tiniest toilets she'd ever seen. Thankfully, the room was a little more sanitary then the other, though, it too was empty.

She headed back towards the first door, slowing to a stop when she noticed a rather cheery looking cork note board on the wall just behind the doorway. She moved the door out of the way to take a look at the clutter of notes, particularly one pinned in the middle in bold red and black writing. It looked like a recent addition.

**DEAR STAFF,**

**DUE TO SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE, WE WILL BE CLOSING THE STORE EARLIER THEN USUAL ON FEBRUARY 5****TH****. PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU DON'T LEAVE ANY OF YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS IN THE STAFF ROOM AS THE MAINTENANCE TEAM WILL HAVE COMPLETE ACCESS TO THE STORE.**

**KEVIN SANSBURY**

**STORE MANAGER**

It jogged her memory. She could have sworn seeing a similar notice around the mall. It seemed ironic and creepy at the same time she was locked in the mall on that same date.

Another note that came to her attention was by accident. She'd nudged it off a counter as she'd moved away from the board. Picking up, she curiously unravelled the crumpled note to reveal its contents.

_**Hey Pete,**_

_**Thanks for saying you'd cover my shift for tomorrow. My dad has been really ill recently and my sister has had to go out of town for a few days so I said I'd look after him. I'm sure Kevin will bring it up, but I was supposed to be staying around longer on my shift to move some of the stock out and wait for those guys to get here to fix the faulty heating system. He'll probably talk to you about it in the morning to get you cover that for me as well. You'll have to stay behind a little longer until they arrive to hand over the keys over to them. They'll drop them in with security once their done. You'll probably have to contact security yourself to get them to let out of the building as they'll have probably have locked the main doors by the time you're finished.**_

_**I owe you one big time!**_

_**Judith**_

She could have slapped herself for her stupidity. Why didn't she think of finding the security guys before? Though, she didn't exactly know the whereabouts of their office in the building nor did she know their number to contact them.

Just outside the staff room door was the store's phone. There were no numbers on the wall or attached to it. When she lifted the receiver to her ear, she found that the line was completely dead. Not a good sign.

She checked her cell phone to see if she could call outside help, though frustratingly, there was no signal reaching it.

Eerily, she was without contact to the outside world.

Feel perturbed by her situation, she took a seat on one of the store's leather sofas, trying to clear her mind as she tired to think how she could get herself out of her predicament.

All exits to the outside had to have been locked up tight, though, that might have been questionable. There were so many stores that looked like they were still open, but she knew now that it was all probably to do with permitting access for the maintenance team. But that begged another question.

Where _was_ the maintenance team?

She didn't know what time they were finishing up, but if the stores were still unlocked, they had to be still around somewhere. She had to find either them or the security team.

Feeling a little more hopeful, she decided to head towards the front entrance, hoping to come across someone or even find the security office. She also considered seeing if the front entrance and the side doors to the car park were open or not.

Rebecca left the bookstore and headed for the escalator to the ground floor. It had been shut off for the night, forcing her to take each tedious, clanking step down to the bottom. The noise that she made bounced loudly of the walls, sending a tingle of nervousness down her spine.

She stared around her at the darkened stalls and shop fronts, finding it extremely weird and very unsettling to be looking at things when everyone had locked up and gone home. Only experiences like this happened in nightmares. Darkened store fronts, plunged into eternal darkness; clothes shop mannequins cast in shadow, their plastic expressions made ever more creepier. She almost expected to break through the glass and attack her, but that would have been plain absurd.

_Crazier things have happened…_

As she made her way along the ground floor level, she found the notice that she'd briefly recalled seeing earlier.

**TO STAFF & CUSTOMERS,**

**PLEASE BE AWARE THAT STORES WILL BE CLOSING EARLIER THEN USUAL DUE HEATING AND ELECTRICAL MAINTENANCE. THIS WILL BE COMENCING FROM 6PM TO 12AM ON THE FEBRUARY 5****TH**** - PLEASE CHECK WITH EACH STORE FOR THEIR CLOSING TIMES.**

_Until twelve? So there should be someone around… _Keeping her eyes peeled, she carried on her way.

She knew even before she reached the front entrance that it would be a fruitless effort. Even at a hundred odd metres away, she could see the main doors had their shutters pulled down and locked into place by heavy padlocks. She groaned to herself and turned her attention towards the pair of double doors not far off to the left, which led to the car park where her precious Suzuki was parked.

She tried the handles. It too, was locked.

What was more frustrating, she couldn't even find the security office in the near vicinity. Her options suddenly became very limited, and the hope she'd previously mustered, quickly dissipated to nothing.

There was no way she was just going to give up. The prospect of spending the night in a half freezing mall until the mall reopened in the morning was not an option. If that happened, she wouldn't be able to make it to the airport in time to catch her flight.

And she couldn't rely on someone suddenly turning up to let her out, either. At this point, even though there were suppose to be people there, she'd not encountered another soul.

Thinking drastically, she decided that her only option was to break out. The door to the car park wasn't that tough if she found the right tool to get it open.

Decidedly her next destination was going to be the hardware store, which was up on the second floor. It meant a bit of a walk, but she could live with that. She just wanted to get out. The whole situation was starting to undo her nerves.

She hurried quickly up to the closest escalator, wasting as little time as possible. As she got to the second escalator, she felt something brush by just behind her. She jolted to a stop, spinning around sharply.

There was nothing there.

She chewed her lip nervously, taking an extra moment to scrutinise her surroundings, every shadow a potential enemy, but there was nothing for her to find.

_Just my imagination… _She hoped anyway.

The hardware store's shutter was down, but luckily for her, it wasn't locked into place. It rolled up with a long bang, the echo hanging in the air a little too long for her liking.

Inside, it was pitch black. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the unlocked door and stepped inside.

She retrieved a penlight from her bag, using its rudimentary light to navigate the cramped store. Its layout was a cluttered mess. Standees, shelves and baskets seemed to be gathered too close together, which in the dark, made it particularly hard for her to steer herself around the store. Needless to say, she bumped into quite a number of things as she scanned the shelves for useful implements.

With so little light, making out things was very difficult. She had to touch pretty much everything just to be sure she knew what she was seeing. She passed by oil bottles, sink parts and light bulbs before coming to a section of heavier, industrial tools that hung up across the back wall. One thing instantly took her eye.

A sledgehammer.

It seemed a bit drastic an item to use, but if she wanted to get a door open, that would most likely be the best thing to do the job. She lifted the heavy instrument down from its perch and carefully navigated her way back out of the store.

She hastily rushed back towards to the ground floor and back to the doors to the car park.

Now that she was standing in front of it, she was much more hesitant to start battering it down, but if this was the only way to get out, it was a necessary evil.

There was just something wrong about the whole situation, something that told her to get out as quickly as she could, but she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Taking a deep breath, she lined up the head of the hammer with the door lock. She reared the heavy tool back-

"Hold it right there!"

The sledgehammer hit the floor like a rock.

She spun, a sharp gasp passing her lips, as a bright light assaulted her vision. She stepped back, shielding her eyes. The person behind the light was obscured by the piercing beam.

The sharp, gravelly voice that had broken the silence snapped again. "What the hell do y'think you're doing?"

The light had been lowered away from her face and was pointed off to the side. The illumination from it was enough to highlight the person who'd appeared almost out of thin air. He was a middle aged man, not that much taller then herself, dressed in navy blue trousers and jacket. The tag attached to the man's chest read: _Harry, Security_.

Seeing that, she sunk back to the wall, sighing loudly with relief.

"Thank God," she exhaled happily.

"I asked you a question, young lady," the man, Harry, demanded, obviously quite annoyed by the situation - not that she could blame him. It didn't exactly look good for her.

"I'm so sorry," she humbly apologised, looking down guiltily at the sledgehammer. "I got myself into a panic at the idea of being locked in. I was so desperate to get out when I couldn't find anyone. You see, I suddenly started feeling sick earlier and passed out in the first floor ladies bathroom. I got the fright of my life when I walked out and everything was dark and deserted."

The security guard didn't look all that impressed with her story, though his anger seemed to wane a little. The wrinkles on his weathered face became deeper as he scrutinised her thoughtfully.

"It really was a last resort, honestly," she went on.

He grunted, still not quite wanting to believe what he was hearing. "Can I see your bag please?"

She wasn't surprised that he thought she might be a robber. Heck, even she would have found it all rather dubious. Understandingly and without complaint, she handed her bag over.

He checked through with the contents with great care and attention, obviously expecting to find her hording stolen perfume and make up. From the bottom of the bag he removed her hospital ID card. He turned the light on it. "Rebecca Chambers…" He looked up at her. "You're a doctor?" She simply nodded in response.

Finished with the search of the bag, he dropped her ID back in and returned it to her. He had her turf out all her pockets, which came up with nothing but old sales receipts. After he patted her down cautiously, he didn't seem quite as agitated as before.

"Where did you get the sledgehammer from?" He inquired, picking it up from the floor.

"The hardware store on the second floor." She folded her arms, a chill creeping up them.

He looked her up and down, an air of caution still clinging to him. "If you don't mind, Miss Chambers, I would like you to come with me."

She didn't argue, though she was certainly exasperated by the turn of events. Quietly, she let him take her arm and escort from her away from the entrance.

Though before they got very far, the loud clapping of feet on the hard floor could be heard heading in their direction. It immediately stopped them in their tracks. Harry had his hand firmly grasped on his taser. Rebecca simply froze when she stood.

From the darkness, a dishevelled figure suddenly appeared - a woman in a red skirt and jacket - recognisable as the uniform for the girls that worked behind the customer care desk. She stumbled erratically towards them, wheezing between what sounded like yelps of fear. Rebecca and the guard's eyes fell to the woman's white shirt exposed from beneath her open jacket.

There was a dark stain of blood running down it.

"Please help me!" She implored frenziedly, her voice shrill with fear. She almost tripped over herself, just about managing to catch herself before she fell. She looked over her shoulder, shrieked, and looked back to them, eyes wild with fear. She was only a few yards away, reaching out desperately for their aid, when she suddenly went stiff, back arched. Her expression froze, a scream abruptly cut off.

Something moved in the shadows, causing Harry to throw his flashlight up to engage it. And in that next instance, blood from the woman's torso exploded in his face.

Flashbacks of 1998 came flooding back to Rebecca as with one slow step after another, she began to retreat backwards.

The light had revealed something that should have remained in the deepest, darkest nightmares.

The woman in red was impaled on a long, thin limb; the bony clawed end was entangled up with her intestines. Blood poured onto the shiny floor as if someone had turned on a faucet.

The thing behind her had the body of a stick insect crossed with a spider, its frame covered with wiry hairs that thinned out on its bony legs and head. Each of its eight legs was adorned with a single long, serrated claw, which clicked as it moved across the floor. Though, the most horrifying of its feature was its face - like that of a big cat's, skinned. Its features were pulled back into a permanent grin, revealing long, stained fangs. The white eyes rolled around in deep sockets, hardly noticing the woman stuck to its leg as it glared at its new prey.

With a shrill, demonic cry, it tossed the dead woman aside like a rag doll. Her body left a streak of crimson across the floor as she skidded to a stop by a store front.

_Not again! Why me? WHY ME? _She grabbed Harry's arm, screaming for him to run, but he was transfixed, frozen to the spot. He'd gone into shock - his horrified face dripping with the woman's still warm blood. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was obviously still trying to comprehend what he was seeing and his body refused to move in response.

Unburdened by its load, the creature with hungry vigour, struck again, this time swiping its clawed limb across the gut of the frightened security guard. It knocked him clean off his feet. The sledgehammer in his hands skidded across the floor, though not too far out of reach for Rebecca.

Instinctively, she made a dive for it.

The monster turned its white eyes in her direction.

She slid on the polished floor, grabbing the item with both hands. She turned just as it started skittering her way. She hurried back to her feet, clutching the sledgehammer tightly.

She didn't wait for it to start attacking. Having braced herself ready, just took a swing with all her strength put behind it. It took the creature fully by surprise as she smacked it in the side of the head, knocking it senseless.

It squealed, sliding back away from her to recover from the blow, only to end up falling down a small set of steps that led away from the mall's main entrance.

Though hurt, it wasn't dead.

Rebecca rushed over to Harry, urging him desperately to get up. His deathly pale face gaped up at her as he clutched a hand to his blood-soaked gut.

"COME ON!" She screamed at him. With a little assistance, he just about managed to get back to his feet. Supporting him, she began to move, looking out for a place for them to hide.

Out of the corner of her eye, the thing was starting to get back to its feet.

"The information desk…" She heard him wheeze out, fumbling for the keys with his free hand. He shakily gave them to her, indicating the one she'd need to unlock the door. Luckily, she knew it wasn't far away.

The access to it was down a side passage next to a Chinese remedy store. Though they weren't moving to fast, the creature was having trouble righting itself on the slippery floor, putting them a good distance away from it. They at least had a smidgen of a chance.

He was obviously badly hurt. More and more as they moved down past the first row of stores she felt his weight become more and more of a burden on her shoulder. She begged him to keep going just that little bit further - they really didn't have that far to go. Though obviously close to collapse, he battled on, despite their retreat not being all that quick.

They rounded the corner, the creature's roar pushing them faster towards the back door to the information desk. Just as they reached it, Harry's legs gave out and he fell down.

Rebecca focused on getting the door open, fumbling through the keys with jittery hands until she found the right one, jamming it into the lock. With a quick turn, it unlocked and she practically kicked the door open in her hurry.

The creature was on the move again. Their time was running out.

She grabbed Harry, who could only offer a little assistance as she dragged him into the room. She shut the door just before the creature reached the corner.

The lock clicked back into place, putting at least a little protection between it and them. She stood in the dark, listening to the roar of the infuriated creature over the pounding beat of her heart. Any second she expected it to break the door down and rip them to shreds. But it didn't.

The stupid thing hadn't seen where they'd gone and had given up in frustration.

The sledgehammer trembled in her hand, its weight suddenly all the more heavier. Slowly it slipped from her fingers and landed with a thud on the carpeted floor.

She had once again entered a world of mindless horror. This time, she didn't know if luck was going to be on her side.


	9. Chapter 8

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Well, I've been working on this chapter for way too long! Serves me right for wanting to add too much stuff in - though, I'm happy that I've got to this point because I'm finally getting to give head first into some serious action and horror - hopefully all of which I've handled well. Also, I want to say thank you to those who've shown my story some support. I know that certain elements of the plot and progression that won't be to everyone's liking, but I'm hoping that as the story continues it'll stand out with some of the ideas I'm trying to implement. I've been very happy with how its all worked out so far, and I'm raring to charge on with it! We've had the calm, now its time for the storm! On with the show!**

**Chapter 8**

One of the two fluorescent tube lights lit up as she threw the switch on, though its incessant flickering forewarned that it could go out at any moment.

Rebecca helped guide Harry over towards one of the chairs sat against the back wall, but his dead weight proved more then she could handle and she was forced to prop him against the front of the chair rather than on it.

With some insistence, she managed to pry his hand away from his stomach so she could check the extent of his injuries. Her wide-eyed expression said it all.

His gut had been split like a melon, barely kept together by skin and fat. The exposed entrails were perforated and leaking out. She was surprised he'd even made it as far as he did, though it was probably at a cost of making it worse.

She stripped off her coat, wrapping it tightly around the open wound. He stifled a cry through gritted teeth, and all she could do was apologise guiltily as she tied it into place.

There was little she could really do for him in their position, making her feel little more than useless. His suffering made her tremble with sorrow, knowing deep down that he was probably going to die in terrible agony, and she would be forced to sit and watch, unable to get him the help he needed.

Rebecca was about to stand, desperate to search for something - if anything - that could elevate his pain, but his hand suddenly took her wrist, quivering with the last ounces of strength.

"That thing…" He breathed out with difficulty.

"Shh," she soothed, taking his ashen hand carefully between her own. "Save your strength."

"A monster," he went on, with evident fear in his pained voice, "a God damn monster… Where the hell did it come from?"

That was a good question, not one she could actually answer though. It was almost as if it had crawled straight out of her nightmares. She gripped his hand tighter.

"Listen, I don't know if that's the only thing crawling around out there. We need to warn anybody else still in the building. Your security team, the maintenance crew…"

"Maintenance crew…" His head sunk back as he leaned against the chair, and for a moment, she thought that he was gone, but then he snapped it back up again. "They disappeared…"

"What?! Disappeared?"

"Very odd bunch of people… Too quiet if you ask me…" He paused to think before he spoke again, voice suddenly very croaky. "They were here for a few hours, then gone… With all those keys, too…" He struggled to swallow, but not as much as he struggled to take his next breath.

Rebecca felt her suspicions arise. There was too much coincidence that she'd ended up locked in there at the same time some sort of freakish monster had turned up on the loose.

She focused back onto the matter at hand. "Okay, is there anyone else in the building you know is still around? Besides your fellow security guards, that is?"

"Sometimes some of the managers stay behind for a few hours… But… I don't know…" An expression of horror crossed his face again. "That woman… It killed her…" The evidence of her death was still clearly splashed across his face.

Rebecca sighed. "I know…"

He cringed, starting to slip from his seating position, though she just managed to catch him before he fell to the floor. She pulled the loose base cushion from off the chair behind them and used it to prop behind his back.

"We should contact your friends in security," she said, praying to God nobody else had been killed by the creature. Or whatever else was roaming out there…

He didn't answer her initially, his bleary eyes blinking slowly as he tried to process the meaning of her words. He was getting worse - fading away before her eyes. His hand reached out for something on his belt, but he found he was groping thin air. He glanced at her after a considerable amount of time and thought. "The keys… You have them?"

They were still in the door after she locked it. She went over to retrieve them for him, though, when she put them in his hand, he just gave them right back again.

"The blue key…" She looked down at the numerous keys, taking a few seconds to spy the one he meant. "There's a grey box on the wall of the security office… It has something in it you'll need…" He groaned, his breaths starting to become more and more shallow.

"Where's the security office?"

"Third floor… North end… Last door…" He convulsed, his back arching wildly. His pained eyes were losing all life and emotion. "Shit…" The word was caught on his last breath as he sunk down where he sat; eyes fixed, body still.

He was gone.

Once again, she was all alone.

Oh God, what do I do now? She sat back, feeling completely trounced by events. She stared at the keys, knowing she had to get out of there, but wondering if she even had the strength to get by. Her eyes moved to the sledgehammer, which had been her only weapon of defence. But it was too cumbersome for her to wield effectively. If she was going to stand a chance of surviving, she needed stealth and access to some lighter weaponry.

It felt almost dishonourable as she started to search Harry for anything of use to her. Looting a freshly dead body felt almost criminal, but she didn't have a choice - what could benefit her was definitely not going to benefit him anymore.

The first item she laid her hands on was a taser, a decent range weapon that could temporarily stun a person, and probably even a monster. Maybe.

He'd also been carrying a small pepper spray canister - not the most useful of weapons, but something she felt worth taking. Just in case.

The last of his arsenal of weapons was a nightstick he'd had on the back of his belt. Much easier to handle then the sledgehammer, though definitely not as powerful. She took it anyway, though she prayed she didn't have to do too much fighting in close combat.

Lastly, she collected his torch from where it had fallen on the carpet, switching it off temporarily. She tossed the pepper spray into her bag for safekeeping while tucking the nightstick through the back of her belt. She kept only the taser and torch to hand for now.

A surreal feeling swept over her as she stood, fingers gripping the weapon with a vice-like vigour. Gearing up like this, ready to pit herself against the odds of a hellish nightmare, put her back into a place she didn't like to revisit. It was too much like that ill-fated mission; the beginning and the end of her policing career. Why the hell couldn't she seem to distance herself from the crazier aspects of life? She was like a magnet for all things bizarre and incomprehensible.

Taking a long, deep breath, she tried to brush aside those unhelpful thoughts. She needed to find the other members of the security team, and any other survivors for that matter; and at the same time, find a way out of the place - preferably, in one piece.

Suddenly, the room was split by a crackling voice.

"Hey, Harry! Are you there? Did you find that woman?"

She almost jumped out of her skin at the abrupt noise. Her heart pounded with fear as she held her breath, praying that nothing else had heard the noise.

She knelt by Harry, fumbling to retrieve the radio from his belt. "Harry? You okay?" The voice came again, and she almost dropped it, but managed to regain her composure before doing so. She lifted the radio close to her face, pressing the button to transmit.

"Hello?" Her response came out timidly; if she hadn't been trying to keep her voice down, she might not have sounded so small.

A tense-filled pause followed. She knew she'd probably taken him by surprise.

A moment later, an agitated voice boomed back over the radio. "Who the hell is this?!" He demanded. "Where's Harry?!"

She glanced at the dead body in front of her, deciding whether or not to tell his colleague of his demise, but right now, there more important matters she needed to concentrate on. "Look, its really important you tell me where you are. You could be in great danger."

"Who is this, damn it?!"

"Are you in the security office?"

"Now, you listen here, lady. If you've done something to Harry-"

She sighed; getting through to this man was not going to be easy. "For God's sake, listen! Your friend, Harry, was attacked by… Something… And so was another woman. If you're out in the mall somewhere you're in real danger of being attacked, too!"

"What the hell are you talking about? You'd better tell me right now where-" The transmission suddenly cut off. At first, Rebecca thought the radio might have died on her - but that was until a horrifying scream tore from the speaker. This time, she dropped the radio.

The agonised cries were drown out by violent clattering and the occasion sharp hiss that almost deafened her with its volume. Almost as abruptly as it had started, it was over, and the radio fell silent again.

Rebecca took a deep, shaky breath before she even dared to pick the radio up again. She trembled as she pressed the button to try and send a message. "Hello? Are you still there?" Her fruitless call was responded by nothing but static.

She closed her eyes, resting the radio back on the floor. She felt terribly sick all of a sudden. It was too early to come undone just yet. She needed to cling to her courage for as long as she could; long enough to survive this ordeal. Whatever nightmare she had long since hoped to escape was staring her right in the face, and there was nothing she could do about it but put up a fight.

She took long, deep breaths through her nose to try and settle the queasy feeling, while trying to decide how she was going proceed from her current position up to the security office on the third floor.

As reluctant as she was to move out into the deadly open, she knew she couldn't stay where she was with the meagre weapons she had - she'd learnt this from past experience. There really was no positive choice in the matter. Take the risk in the open or wait around to die.

She headed for the door, retrieving the keys so she could unlock it and let herself out. The click of the lock as it opened had never sounded so loud. Another deep breath was called for to keep her nerves. She bagged the keys for safekeeping, keeping the grey box in the back of her mind.

Before stepping out, she kicked her shoes off. The less attention she drew the better, and darting about in heels would only spell trouble in the long run. It wasn't going to be pleasant walking on a cold floor, but it was one sacrifice she was willing to make if she could get around a little more covertly.

She gave Harry one last sorrowful glance, saying a prayer for his departed soul before she stepped back out into dangerous territory.

She tip-toed mouse-like down the narrow corridor, putting her back defensively to the wall. She clutched the torch to her chest, slowly moving her thumb to push the switch on the side upward. The light was obscured as she pressed it into her blouse, holding her breath as she listened to the unearthly clicking not too far away.

She waited on baited breath for it to draw closer, but by the diminishing amplitude of the sound, she could safely guess that the creature was moving away from her. She counted to ten before aiming the torch out low around the corner, peeking out to follow the beam across the concourse. Light bounced off the polished surfaces with a stark clarity, temporarily scattering the shadows to reveal empty, utilitarian storefronts.

There were gouges in a wall panel directly across the way; thin albeit jagged lines, deeply cut into the mineral surface. She didn't need reminding of the damage they could do. The wall would survive; she wouldn't.

She withdrew the light, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself while she was stationary. Judging the distance between the sound to her position, she guessed that the creature was roughly by the first set of escalators, which could have been between thirty to forty metres away from her position. Between that gap, she knew, was an elevator. It was the safest method she could use to traverse to the third floor.

Torch aimed downward, she sloped around the corner, her back glued to the wall as she slid herself along, eyes fixed out ahead of her - keen; alert. The distant movement paused briefly, the silence leaving a cloud of tension in the air. She refused to stop walking, though tried to make her movements seem as small as possible.

The clicking eventually started again, and a gut feeling told her that the creature was suspicious - that it had a feeling she was there, as quiet as she was. The noise was starting to head her way.

The cold glass front of a mobility shop touched her back and she had to grit her teeth as the icy sharpness seeped in through her thin shirt. She had to take a slight step away, unable to stand the feeling on her skin, like a thousand tiny daggers stabbing at her in unison. If it wasn't bad enough that her feet were aching with the cold, her body was quaking with the shivers from giving up her coat - though there was more to her trembling than a mere case of low temperature.

She flicked off her torch again, knowing she was drawing close to the elevator. Her taser was pointed firmly into the darkness, at no point wanting to be caught by surprise.

The wall sunk in where the elevator sat, and as her hand touched the corner of the wall, she felt almost a sense of relief that she'd made it even such a short distance. She gave the briefest of glances back to spy the button on the wall before firmly pressing it, calling the elevator from the second floor.

More clicking feet caught her attention, somewhere off in the distance. More of the things. She swallowed hard. A little too close for comfort.

The lights above the elevator doors slowly but surely slid down to the ground floor.

A loud ding indicated its arrival. The sound ripped apart the silence.

The doors barely parted before she threw herself between them, reaching for the panel to pound in the button for the third floor. The clicking feet were closing in on her position at lightning speed.

She almost broke the button on the bottom to prematurely close the doors, standing to the back of the elevator with her taser raised, just in case one of them tried to stop it.

Wide eyes took in the sight of one of those horrifying creatures emerging from the darkness, just as the doors slid closed. She held her breath, waiting for the doors to be split open like a tin can.

Something slammed into the partition, scaring her witless. She held in a cry of terror.

But nothing else happened. The elevator calmly began its ascent.

Her hand fell to rest on a bar on the back wall, supporting her weight as she fought to regain her composure.

Just a little bit further… She kept telling herself, trying not to worry about what she might encounter on the third floor. A part of her had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't going to be an easy trek.

The elevator dinged for the third floor, and her taser went up like shot. Biting her lip, she flinched as the doors slid open. Her finger twitched on the trigger.

Only darkness waited for her on the third floor. Not a whisper of another soul. It didn't make her feel anymore safe than before. She flicked the torch back on as she stepped beyond the doors.

It seemed nigh on deserted. Seemed being the keyword she clung to. She couldn't be too sure as of yet. There were noises that she could note, but they were coming from below her.

She stepped up to the glass-panelled banister and looked out over, using the torch and the minimal moonlight from above to spy on the other creatures. The ground floor was too dark to see, but the other two levels had distinct inhuman movement on them. More of those creatures she had first seen, and something else, smaller and slinkier, but she was unable to make out what it really looked like.

She stepped away from the banister and headed north, her movement cautious as she let the stream of light carve out her path. There was something about the emptiness on this level that didn't sit well with her. She sighed, taking a sharp intake of breath, one that hurt more then it should have. It was the cold making her chest feel tight. She hoped to procure herself another coat along the way so that wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death. She clenched her jaw tight to stop her teeth from chattering.

At the last intersection of the north bound walkway, she knew she couldn't be too far from her destination - not that she could see the door just yet. But the thought of temporary safety was disrupted by movement on the intersection bridge. Rebecca stopped in her tracks, turning her torch toward a shadowy form.

She was agape at the hunched up figure in the middle of the floor, trembling fiercely. It was a teenage girl with a long mane of dark hair, adorned only in a thin white linen dress. Rebecca couldn't make out her face, as she had it pressed against the tiled floor. Her bare arms and legs were pale and thin, almost unbearably so.

Where did she come from? Does she work here? Did she get locked in, too? Rebecca stepped closer, pained to hear the girl's muffled sobbing. From what she could see of her, there were no evident injuries on her body, but by the way she shook, she was definitely in distress.

Rebecca stopped within a few paces of her, kneeling down. "Are you alright?" She asked softly.

The girl's body stopped trembling, and for a moment, she seemed to settle into a calm, her sobs fading to nothing. In a slow, fluid motion, the girl raised her head to look at Rebecca.

Her eyes were milky white.

Rebecca was immediately up to her feet again, taking a huge step back. Oh my God, a zombie! Of all things! But this wasn't like any zombie she'd ever faced before. Besides looking sickly thin, she didn't look like she was in any state of decay; and since when did zombies cry and tremble? No - this was something different.

The girl, still staring up at Rebecca, slowly got up onto all fours. Her gaze, though empty, was still penetrating - but it wasn't the stare of a hungry cannibal, it was more the look of a curious puppy. A whimper escaped her thin, colourless lips as she began to crawl towards Rebecca, whose immediate reaction was to move. Her body went into auto-pilot and she back peddled, not wanting to let this girl cover the distance between them.

Rebecca could hear her murmuring something - garbled words that didn't sound like any real language - as she tried to reach out to her, physically begging her for help. But could she really be helped?

There was desperation, neediness, anguish - emotions that seemed to beg Rebecca to help this poor soul, but she just kept retreating. Something in her gut said not to trust her, no matter how much she was pleading with her frail body.

"Please… Please…" Slipped through the garbled words, echoing out in an almost haunting tone. But it was obvious her words weren't having the desired effect and she stopped her advance, sitting back on her haunches and letting out a howl of despair.

Before Rebecca could even formulate a response, something that would make her understand why she was running away, a sudden change came over the girl. Tremors wracked her alabaster frame, forcing a shrill cry from her lungs, reaching such a frequency it was almost as if she wasn't screaming at all. Then, her body tore open at the back. Tree trunk like tentacle - brown and gnarled - snaked out, cutting through the air.

Rebecca yelped involuntarily. This girl was definitely beyond help.

A tentacle shot out, slashing through the tiles on the floor and toward Rebecca. She dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding the limb, which instead, smashed out a section of the glass barrier to her left.

The girl let out a manic wail, her wide eyes filled with pain and madness. Another tentacle struck out, this time, side swiping Rebecca's legs out from under her. The torch went flying off into a plant pot, though she managed to keep a tight hold on the taser.

The girl was up and shambling forward on bony legs, tentacles flailing out behind her, smashing up everything in its path; benches, decorative flower displays, and most certainly aiming to hurt Rebecca, who nursed her side with tender care. There was no way she could get away in time - the tentacles would snap her in half before she'd even got off the floor. She had to rely on the taser, which she aimed up towards the girl's midsection.

She fired.

The barbed line hooked into her pale flesh, sending a thousand volts through the hapless girl's body. She shrieked like a banshee, body rigid with pain - even the tentacles stood out stiffly like branches.

The battery very quickly ran out. The girl was once more moving, this time, in a stagger, trying to focus on Rebecca through hazy eyes. It was a surprise she was even still on her feet. Any normal human being would have been struggling to pick themselves up off the floor after a shock like that.

Rebecca scrambled back up to her feet, dropping the now useless taser. The girl lurched violently at her.

It was a split second decision for Rebecca to retrieve the nightstick from her belt. Stepping into the attack, she cracked the girl brutally over the head, sending her to the ground in a tangle of twitching tentacles.

Rebecca rushed to pluck the torch up from the plant pot and veered around the girl's body. She made a run for it, not sticking around for round two.

Her ribs were burning with pain, but she forced herself to disregard it for the time being while she made her getaway. Ignoring the loud moans behind her, she kept moving until she finally reached the end of the level. The door to the security room stood before her.

She reached for the handle, finding it was thankfully unlocked, and barged right inside. She put her back to the door as it clicked back into the place, hunching to the side as she waited for the pain to finish its assault.

She pressed her ear against the door, trying to hear if the girl had decided to give chase. There were no sounds whatsoever. The moaning that had been echoing right behind her had evaporated into silence.

Rebecca was relieved albeit uneasy.

She stepped out of the entranceway into the main room. Nobody was present.

There was barely any space to walk between the work units and the wall of monitors. She pushed aside one of the swivel chairs to stand in front of the screens. Every so often they switched their black and white images to different parts of the mall. She could even few images from a camera inside the gym. There would a couple of people there using the exercise equipment, oblivious to what was going on.

Lucky them…

On the other screens there was movement from things that shouldn't have been there. Monsters just as terrifying as the virus creatures of the past. She turned away from them.

There were three other rooms connected to the main one - two to the back, one to the side. Through an open hatchway, she could smell the fresh scent of coffee in the tiny kitchenette. Three cups were sat on the side - one still full and still slightly steaming, while the other two were half empty. Recent activity was a good sign. She entered and searched through the cupboards for some aspirin to quell her pains. Fortunately for her, there was some sharing the same shelf space as some cereal. She downed two with a glass of cold water.

The room next door was a storage closet full of random knick-knacks - a box of lost property, a railing full of spare clothes and a particularly interesting looking stab vest hung up on the back wall. There were a few unmarked boxes that she was tempted to look through, but she decided to leave them for the time being.

The last room on the far side was a locker room, cosily decked out with TV, stereo, a small book shelf and a camp bed, which, to her surprise and relief, was occupied.

The young man laying there, stirred almost on instinct, looking up first to the muted TV playing an action film to the young woman in the doorway. He sat bolt upright, brushing his shaggy brown hair aside.

"Who the heck are you?!" His blue eyed flickered with uncertainty, revealing his youth and inexperience. He looked comical in his uniform, almost a size too big on his skinny frame. Not much of a security guard in her books. Then again, she hadn't looked like much of a policewoman either. Those thoughts aside, she wondered how the hell she was going to start explaining the situation to him. Decidedly, she aimed for the less straightforward option just to avoid looking borderline crazy.

"There's been some trouble," she started, feeling like she was understating the situation. "You should come take a look at the monitors. You'll see what I mean."

He hesitated, giving her a very suspicious glare, before standing. He slowly approached the doorway, not taking his eyes off her for a second. She could be sure he was judging whether she was a potential threat or not, though she tried to appear as innocent and inoffensive as possible. As he got closer, she caught the sight of his name badge. It read: 'Dylan'.

He stepped by her and into the main room, glancing about awkwardly, then turned a blank stare on her. "Did someone bring you up here?"

"No. I came on my own."

"Where the hell are the other guys?" The young man muttered more to himself as he walked over to the monitors, though he kept himself in a position where he could see her out of the corner of his eye.

Rebecca's attention went elsewhere. On the wall between the doorframes of the kitchenette and storage closet was a grey box - the grey box Harry had mentioned. She left young Dylan to decipher the nightmare images for himself while she fished through her bag for the keys.

"The blue key…"

She identified the right one and put it into the keyhole of the box, unlocking it. Dylan immediately turned to look at what she was doing, as if he'd been waiting to catch her out.

"Where did you get those from?!" He demanded, about ready to charge over.

"Look, I think you've got more important things to worry about!" She said sternly, pointing back to the screens, wanting him to take a moment to realise the screens with flickering with images of creatures from the darkest depths of insanity. She figured he'd been more concerned about her presence to really look at what was happening on the screens. When he finally did look, he was frozen to the spot.

She pulled back the grey door, staring at the contents with wide-eyed surprise. It was her lucky day after all.

It was a semi-automatic pistol - a Kimber Custom to be exact - complete with spare magazines.

I never thought I'd love the sight of a gun… She took it into her hand, a sense of power running right through her like an electrical discharge. It didn't diminish the fear, but she did feel a little more prepared. She bagged the spare clips along with the keys, not knowing when she might need them again.

"Holy shit…" She heard Dylan whisper to himself, still in the same position as before, eyes darting from screen to screen in complete disbelief of what he was seeing. Rebecca moved over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, though his eyes immediately focused on the gun in her hands.

"Where did you get that?" He muttered, the sight of the weapon almost foreign to him. He definitely hadn't known what was in the box, otherwise he wouldn't have simply left her to take the contents.

"We're in serious trouble," she said, ignoring his question. "There are things out there that are killing with remorse. I don't know how they got here, or why they're here, but we've got to leave this place. Your colleagues have already been murdered by these things, and that just leaves you and me, and anyone else who happens to be in the building, in serious danger."

"This is a joke… A really sick joke…"

"If only…" She sat down in one of the seats, letting her eyes drift back to the monitors.

More of the same creature that she'd first encountered patrolled the many levels, along with some very large cat-like things with body builder muscles and faces that were split down the middle, allowing an elongated pipe-like tongue to hang out. She got an unappreciated look at one of them as they checked out a camera on one of the lower levels. She recoiled with disgust.

"Fucking unreal…" Dylan continued to mutter to himself, sinking into the other available chair.

Rebecca searched for the monitor that would display the walkway she'd encountered the girl on not too long before. She found it when she recognised the battle damage on the glass banister. But there was no girl there now. She'd disappeared.

Not good news at all.

Rebecca stood up, deciding that if she was ever going to prepare herself for a long haul battle, she needed to do so now. She returned to the storage room to receive the stab vest, putting it on for assurance. It was a little baggy, but she could live with that. She searched through the different boxes, hoping they might be rewarding to her. Though, she had pretty much lucked out when all she could find were paper plates, stationary, superglue and old Halloween costumes. Though amidst all the useless junk was a couple of batteries, which she bagged in case the torch ran out of power.

As she stepped out of the room, Dylan stood up.

"Are you sure about the others?" He asked. "Are they really dead?"

"I know for sure Harry is. He was practically gutted." She grimaced in memory of the poor man's last painful moments of life. "One of your other colleagues got in touch. I didn't get his name, but I'm certain from all the screaming that he might not still be alive."

"That's only two…" Dylan seemed to have some renewed hope. "There are three of them."

"Three?"

"There was Jim and Eric as well. Maybe one of them is still alive."

Rebecca nodded. "Okay. We'll see when we get out there."

Dylan's eyes bulged out. "What?! Go out there?!"

"Would you prefer to stay here and wait for them to come to us?" He fell quiet, looking down at his feet. He was scared shitless. She could understand how he felt because she felt exactly the same way. "I used to be a cop," she tried to assure him. "I've got your back, I promise."

He sighed and looked up to the screens, still trying to absorb what he was seeing. Then, something else caught his eye. "Hey, who the hell is that?" He pointed to one of the bottom screens, depicting a passage in the bowels of the mall. Rebecca stepped forward to take a look.

It was a figure, slowly but surely stalking the length of a barren corridor. Head to toe in black; face obscured with a helmet and mask; armed with a heavy duty weapon; there was something pretty iffy about this new presence. How this figure and the monsters connected together, she didn't know, but she was certain she was soon to find out.

The pair looked at each other grimly.


	10. Chapter 9

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __copyright__ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Its been months since my last update. A lot of things have gotten in the way of me working on this, but mainly writers block and trouble putting together a good portion of this chapter. I wrote the beginning and the end first, and have struggled my way through the middle, trying to get it all to fit together nicely. Well, hopefully its been worth the wait!**

**Chapter 9**

Dylan spread a copy of the mall plan across the floor, pinning it down with cups and CD cases he'd found scattered across the room. The huge sheet featured diagrams of each floor in basic form, indicating the public spaces from the staff only areas. None of the shops were listed with names, but Rebecca had a good idea which was which from memory. She tapped the paper on the top corner, indicating their current position, which Dylan quickly discerned with a Smurf pencil topper.

"Our objective," Rebecca began, "is to get from here-" she tapped the top of the Smurf, "-to here." Her hand moved down to the bottom of the paper which had an arrow pointing off the sheet, indicating the car park, which wasn't actually pictured on the sheet.

There were two access routes to the car park. The one she'd tried to break open before in the mall entrance, and a second one, located in the back space, accessible to mall employees only. She wasn't sure what level it would put them out on - there was a completely separate area for employee parking; though she figured they'd still be able to get out to where her own car was parked. That was if the place wasn't swarming with undesirables.

Nodding quietly to herself, Rebecca placed a rusty screw on the arrow - their vital destination, and sat back as she did her best to memorise each level.

Dylan was dubious about the whole operation. He puffed out a sigh, shaking his head. "You think we can actually make it that far? That's a hell of a long way to go…"

She wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea herself - to go back out there and face God knows what; but just staying there didn't benefit them in any way. Nobody knew they were in trouble, and they couldn't make contact with the outside world - as proved by Dylan himself when trying to use an outgoing phone line. And there was no way in hell she was placing any faith in those masked 'intruders'. There was something more to their presence then she ever wanted to find out. A small part of her hoped they might be there to rescue them, but there was too much doubt on her part to ever truly believe that.

It was just a question now of what got to them first. The masked men or the monsters…

Rebecca sighed, finally responding to his statement after a contemplating silence. "Its our only real option. We can't stay here. These things will hunt us out. They might be stupid, but they'll eventually use their noses like any good predator does. When they do that, we're done for."

Dylan stared at her for a long, quiet moment as she continued to stare hard at the map. "Does this shit happen to you very often?" He asked inquisitively.

She looked up. Had had picked up some measure of experience emanating in her voice? Maybe he'd even seen something in her eyes. She could feel the mask of ignorance slipping. She was never going to truly escape the world of viruses, monsters and mad men. "Feels like it," she muttered sadly. "You'd think lightning never struck twice, but it does…" She leaned back, closing her eyes as she felt her body quake with tiredness and uncertainty. "Why me? Why now? What's it all about?"

Dylan opened his mouth to say something - thought about it - then decided not to, pressing his lips back together tightly. His opinion would profit very little, and he seemed decided that it was better the person he was trapped with knew something about the situation then nothing at all.

Rebecca returned her attention to the map. They just couldn't walk around the mall openly. That was just begging for disaster. But she didn't know if they could actually gain access to the private corridors.

She remembered the keys in her possession and retrieved them, holding them up to her companion. "These should get us access to the back, right?"

"Yeah. Harry pretty much had access to every area of the mall. Except for the managers offices and one or two of the stores." Dylan got to his feet, going to retrieve a navy jacket from his locker - a part of his standard security uniform, and a matching cap. She didn't know if there was any point to the additional layers, but she could assume he probably felt a lot safer with them on; not that they would stop a pair of claws ripping through him. Images of Harry's demise flickered inside her head, and she had to shake them off before they turned her stomach.

Blinking clear her vision, she stared at the third level on the map. At intervals on the level, she located the back access doors. It would take a bit of walking to reach the closest one.

It meant they'd have to do a bit of ducking and dodging, which wasn't exactly an exciting prospect.

As Dylan came back to sit next to her, she pointed this out to him. He shook his head, and pointed to a store right across the bridge where she'd encountered the freakish monster girl. If memory served her right, this was a store for baby and toddler accessories. He was indicating a door at the back of the square, one she'd not picked up on; then again, she'd figured it had led into a storage closest.

"Some of the stores have back access. Not sure why some have and some don't, but its useful because a lot of the stores own more storage space." He pointed to the third level. "Most of these are offices. There are a couple more on the floors down, but they're really mostly janitors closets, junk rooms and the extra storage space. If we get through that door, we can just work our way down the stairs to the bottom. And hey presto, we'll be at the car park."

It sounded much too easy, but it was enough to bring a small smile to her lips. "Excellent. We have a plan."

"I don't know if that's a good thing," he mumbled. "Still don't like the idea of going out there."

"Neither do I…"

Almost begrudgingly, they set about gearing themselves up for the arduous trek. Dylan had the same kind of arsenal that Harry had been carrying. Things that could incapacitate a human in an instant. However, when it came to monsters, that was a completely different story.

He handed her a radio. "If somehow we get separated, we can still keep in contact." She nodded thankfully and slipped it onto her belt.

She was thankful for the vest and the gun now, feeling a little more prepared to face what lay ahead. Now she just had to keep her nerve and remember her police training. Saying a quiet prayer, she turned to Dylan. "Ready?"

"No…" He sighed. "Well, yeah. Physically prepared, I think… Mentally, no way. But, yeah…" He shut up, casting her a sheepish smile before nodding as resolutely as he could, which was merely a slight jolt of his head.

That was the best she was going to get out of him. Leading the way with him obediently in tow, they made their way to do the door. Taking in the deepest breath she had done all night, she slowly opened it, flashing her torch out across the walkway. Certain that they were currently alone, she stepped out. Dylan hesitated a moment before following.

Making her way back towards the bridge walkway, she trained her gun out ahead of her, torch blazing through the shadows with a sharp intensity. She bit her lip, scanning through narrowed, nervous eyes. Ears pricked, she could hear every creak and hiss permeating the unholy silence. The clomping footsteps close at her heels faltered each time her padding feet hesitated, uncertainty filling her when a shadow flickered or a foreign sound seemed too close.

Her eyes determined that their vicinity was currently unoccupied. That freakish girl had since abandoned the area - so it seemed. Where she was now, Rebecca could only guess. They proceeded on cautiously.

As they reached the other side unhindered, they shone their torches up towards the store sign above them - the place they wanted. 'Baby Days', a jovial sign with faux crayoned writing and a stork cradling a linen bundle. Rebecca turned to Dylan, nodded and stepped up to the door, testing it with a light shove. It opened with ease.

The beam of her torch pierced through the dark, lonely store, moving in a wide, quick sweep. She identified it to be all clear, giving the thumbs up to Dylan before they both stepped inside.

Glassy dolls eyes followed their every movement across the store, a flicker of light dancing off of their beady orbs as their torches passed across numerous jam-packed displays.

Reaching the back wall, they came across the door they were looking for towards the far right end. The keys jangled in her hands as she fumbled, torch wedged under her chin and gun under her arm, for the right key. Dylan whispered that it had a yellow top.

Above their heads, the shadows stirred.

She found it was a joyous sigh - practically the last key on the split ring; but just as she was reaching to push it into the lock, something caught her attention. A scratching sound, followed by a muffled set of squeaks.

Something wasn't quite right…

Swallowing, the growing sound of movement turned her head skyward, promptly followed by the beam of the torch.

Hundreds of beady red eyes glared down at her.

Dylan's followed her startled gaze upward. He fell back, knocking over multi-packs of diapers as a yell of horror tore from his lips. "BATS!"

A horde of angry screeching followed as little furry bodies dove down from the ceiling in tight formation, reacting to the sound and light disturbing their peaceful rest.

Rebecca made a grab for the nearest object, not wanting to waste precious bullets on such tricky creatures. It just so happened she grabbed a red plastic potty, but it was as good a weapon as any as she swung it around viciously, scattering the furry crowd and batting furry bodies away from her.

It just so happened to be a red potty, but it was as good as any weapon as she swung it around manically, batting furry bodies away from her. She backed up to the door, managing to fit the key into the lock while deterring the manic creatures with her violent swipes. The bats kept their distance, instead focusing on their other opponent, who was screeching with terror as he swung his arms about him with a fierce desperation.

Dylan knocked over store displays as he scrambled to escape the chasing bats. The sheer noise he was making was bound to attract unwanted attention, and Rebecca began to panic, trying to call to him over his own screams. But he couldn't hear her, too caught up in his own fear and revulsion as he thrashed a path towards the door, furry bodies bouncing off his arms and head.

Seeing he was making a beeline for the front entrance, Rebecca screamed for him to stop, but her pleading fell on deaf ears. In a matter of seconds he was gone, taking with him most of the angry bats. Swearing under her breath, she hesitated on what to do next. Should she go after him - out into danger unknown - or battle on into potentially safer territory. She knew she had to make the best choice for herself.

One of the remaining bats dove at her, only to be clobbered across the room by the swinging potty. She turned the key and flung the door open, diving through it. A number of bats tried to follow but found themselves bouncing off the exit as it was slammed shut behind her.

The keys slipped from her fingers and onto the concrete floor before her as she slumped forward, trying to catch her breath. The sound clattered around her, echoing along the narrow, lifeless confines of the bleak corridor.

She turned off her torch in the brightly lit area, clutching the item to her chest as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Still somewhat shaking, she bent down and retrieved the keys, putting them away for now. In the quiet, she had time to reflect with dismay on what had just occurred. She just couldn't believe he'd ran back out again. In his blind panic he'd probably run right into the jaws of death without a seconds thought. Where had all his rational thought gone?

_Honestly, if I was him, I might have done exactly the same… _She assumed he was probably so freaked out by what he was afraid of facing, that the bats had just triggered him to lose all his senses. He was blameless really when it came to his own terror. She remembered the first time she'd come face to face with a zombie. Everything in her being had told her to run and hide, but she had overridden her fears long enough to fight back.

She pressed her head back against the door, the thought of leaving him on his own eating at her gut. Though, she had her own welfare to think of. All she could do for now was wish him well and hope he survived through the night.

A door down the right end of the corridor opened. Because of the zigzagged layout, she was unable to see who had entered the corridor, but an uncertainty stirred inside her and she knew she had to move - and quickly.

Heavy footsteps slowly began to head her way.

She turned and bolted in the other direction, her own footfalls a mere patter on the hard floor. She tried handles on the nondescript grey doors as she ran, finding them irritatingly locked. She didn't have time to fumble with the keys, so just kept going, trying not to make too much noise as she went.

Finally one door yielded and opened. Blindly, she fell into the room.

It was storage for old mannequins. Painted eyes on pasty faces bore into her as she stood momentarily surprised in the entrance.

Swallowing heavily, she closed the door behind her, having to grope through the darkness with care to get to the back of the room where a pile of broken figures lay stacked up. On old fraying curtain was partially draped across the pile, covering a few bodies and broken plastic limbs. She pulled it back in order to slide under, trying to meld herself against the cluster of broken figures, hoping to blend herself in amongst them by mimicking their stiffness. She tossed the cover back over herself and the other mannequins, pressing herself tightly into the bunch, praying that nobody would find her.

It was like laying in a mortuary with all those cold bodies and separate limbs. She had to steady her breathing, keep calm and try and focus on staying as still as humanly possible. Her hand, in a very slow movement, went to the radio on her belt. For now, she turned it off. She didn't need Dylan suddenly breaking her cover with a message if he were to send one. He'd have to do without her for now.

If he was even still alive.

The footsteps were almost on her position. She held her breath, closed her eyes; willed herself to be an inanimate object.

The door opened in a swift motion. She risked a peak through a half opened eyes . Light from the corridor spilled in along with stark torch light which danced across the room as it scanned the contents. The sharp beam lingered momentarily on the curtain. She wondered if that light was peeling through her cover, revealing her there amongst the scattered plastic shaped like human appendages.

The light slowly moved away, moving to check out the array of shelves before retracting from the room.

A very slight mumble of voices seemed to drift into the air. So tiny, so far away, but the person at the door responded to it as if they've been there, too. It was definitely some sort of radio device.

"Uh huh. Yeah… Did they say they had tracking?" A long pause followed. "So they've got problems with that? Too bad. Anyway, I'm heading down to the next floor. Watch yourselves, okay." It sounded like a fairly young man, spirited but focused. He closed the door, letting darkness consume the room again.

Rebecca stayed still for a minute longer before letting out a ragged breath, twitching with discomfort having to lay awkwardly on a cold, rough floor. She switched the radio back on, hoping Dylan hadn't been calling for help while she was saving her own skin.

_Can't save him if I get myself killed…_

She threw the curtain off of herself and crawled back up to her feet. She brushed dust and grit from her clothes as she tip-toed to the door, pressing her ear against it. The footsteps had diminished into the distance.

Before stepping back out, she decided to see if she could contact Dylan.

"Dylan? Can you hear me?" She semi-whispered into the speaker. She wasn't hopeful she'd get a response, but it was always worth a try. It made her realise how little faith she'd actually had in the young man. Admittedly, he'd proven this by running off, but that didn't mean he was dead already. But honestly, she couldn't be too sure when all she received was a wish-wash of static.

Then, there was an odd clicking amidst the crackle of radio static. Then humming, flowing into a sound much like an old modem dialling up.

_What on Earth? _She stopped her attempt to contact Dylan, not knowing if her radio signal was being purposely tampered with.

Swirling amidst the static emerged many ghostly voices, as if she was intercepting a cluster of radio talk. The voices were hard to make out - men and women - nondescript tones in a military-like speech.

"Hello? … Miss? Whose there?" The response that cut the airwaves, loud and clear, came directed right at her. She held her breath, frowning. Was this contact a good or bad thing? Maybe it was Jim or Eric whom Dylan had mentioned? Or then again, it could be one of those masked intruders, which seemed much more likely.

"Please identify yourself?" The voice asked. It was too composed to have been one of the security guards. This was someone who was prepared - someone who knew what they were facing. She couldn't help but feel the voice had some familiarity to it, but she just couldn't place it in her mind.

"Is this Jim? Or Eric, even?" She asked hurriedly, telling herself it was worth it to check.

There was a long pause. "Who?"

_Figures… _Uncertainly, she turned off the radio. She couldn't be sure who she was talking to and whether they were dangerous or not. She didn't want to lead them right to her. For now, she had to rely on herself until she could be sure about who she was dealing with.

She reached for the keys she'd tucked into the front of her bag, folding them tightly in her sweaty palm.

_Onwards alone again… _Though she hoped this would only be a temporary situation.

Certain it was all clear, she stepped back out into the corridor. She proceeded down to the right, in the direction the map had indicated, keeping her eyes peeled for either the monsters or those SWAT-looking soldiers.

She reached the open stairwell around the furthest corner of the corridor. It would take her all the way down to the ground level. She looked over the banister as she descended a couple of steps, stopping abruptly when she heard movement below. She caught a glimpse of the black attire and stayed as still as she could to wait and see what they would do. Luckily for her, they passed the stairs without an upward glance, keeping their focus along the level below. When she was sure they were far enough away, she descended the steps, turning toward the next set, when something caught her eye to the right.

She was faced with a grisly discovery.

A body torn in two. The lower portion - from waist to feet - had been tossed further up the corridor. Blood spray marred the floor and walls, indicating the violence that occurred. She swallowed as she stared at the top half of the body, laying in a thick pool of blood and guts. She knew as she stepped towards the butchered body, that the uniform it was clad in was the standard issue for the security guards. The question was now, which one of them had become another victim of the nightmare.

Gore was copious on the shirt, but the name tag was still clear enough to read. The name 'Jim' stood out in bold, black writing. That accounted for him. Rebecca sighed sadly and moved on.

She descended the next two levels trouble free and picked up the pace. The back entrance to the car park was not too far away now. She was starting to feel a little more optimistic. Keys clutched tightly in her hand, the double doors appeared in the distance, bringing a sense of hope to her peril. She just might make it after all…

The wall to the side of her burst inward, throwing chunks of concrete like projectiles in her direction. She skidded to a stop, ducking to avoid the bigger pieces as they smashed against the opposite wall. Punching through the newly formed hole, a gnarly tree trunk tentacle swung out at lightning speed. She'd barely a chance to put her feet into motion before she was struck across the back and sent sailing down the corridor. The keys left her hand, flew almost in slow motion through the air before - horrifyingly - hitting a grate in the floor. Almost predicatively, they slipped between the bars and disappeared.

"Noooooo!" Of all the things that could have happened, why did _that _have to happen? The shock had drained the colour out of her face.

If she'd had a moment to spare, she might have even cried, but her life was still in danger and in the next instance she was rolling out of the way of the tentacle slamming into the floor where she'd been. The pistol materialised in her hand, and from where she lay, back pressed against the wall, she sent too shots into the ugly appendage. There was a shriek and the tentacle retreated back through the hole.

Rebecca took the chance to crawl to the grate, taking a quick look inside. It was just deep enough that she wouldn't be able to reach it, never mind her having to struggle to fit her arm through one of the gaps in the bars. No, she needed something to fish them out again.

It was bitter irony that she was just a stones throw away from the doors.

She got to her feet, aiming the gun at the hole in the wall, but all had gone eerily quiet on the other side. Had the gun shots frightened her opponent enough to make a permanent retreat? Rebecca could only hope so as she sidestepped, back to the wall, checking out the hole. There appeared to be nothing beyond. Just an empty store.

The gunfire would definitely bring someone into the area very shortly, so she had to hurry and decide which way to go now. She needed something that could fish the keys out and get the hell out of dodge. She rushed down the ground floor level and reached a nondescript doors down on the left, one that would take her back into the mall. Luckily, the door was unlocked.

She entered into a small cosmetics store through a store room. It was stifling with the smell of strong, expensive perfume. Breathing through her mouth, she moved down the aisle towards the glass doors, quickly stepping to the side when she caught the shadow of one of those huge spider-legged monsters stalking by. She hugged the wall, listening to the clicking as it skulked away. Thankfully, it didn't sense her presence.

Once it was far enough away, she tempted fate and made a run for it across the concourse. There was a stylish clothes store not too far away where there were plenty of wire coat hangers to boot. She could definitely turn one into a helpful piece of 'fishing' equipment to retrieve the keys.

Dodging with help from the shadows, she ducked and dived, listening as she almost crab walked her way from pillar to post. The spitting fountain with the ornamental fish was just ahead of her. She had reached dead centre of the mall. Not far across the wide open space was the store she was wanting and she made a hurried dash for it.

"Hey!" A sudden shout brought her to a skidding stop. She turned sharply, breath caught in her chest as she saw one of those soldiers across the way. He'd materialised out of nowhere.

He had his gun tentatively trained on her, studying her from his position from afar, he raised his light towards her face, causing her to sharply turn away from the blinding beam.

Her finger moved to the trigger of her gun, ready to shoot and run if needs be.

A shriek suddenly filled her ears, causing her to jump back defensively, narrowly avoiding being pounced on by one of those muscled cat-like creatures as it leapt down from the level above. Its pipe-shaped tongue shot out, lashing the air in front of her as she backed away.

A blur of movement shot in front of her and she realised with surprise that the masked soldier had put himself between her and the monster. The speed he'd moved at had been too fast for her to comprehend. Still trying to discern the soldier's motives, she ducked away as he opened fire on the lashing creature, filling its face full of lead. Its mournful shriek was cut off as the bullets tore away its jaw. It fell back lifeless, just as another of its kind leapt into the action.

The soldier skilfully dodged the lightning fast swipe, leaving the creature with its claw imbedded in the polished floor. The butt of his gun met the side of its hideous face, sending it sprawling. It didn't have time to right itself as a hail of bullets splattered its entrails up the backside of the stairs.

"Look out!" Rebecca screamed, as another appeared, catching the soldier on his blindside. A backhanded smash caught him across the side of the head and sent him flying. His gun was sent skidding in a completely different direction.

Rebecca made to run, but she too, ended up flying off of her feet when the creature rushed her, smacking her across the back. The next thing she knew, she had landed face first in the fountain. She struggled back to her feet, pain throbbing up her spine. Waterlogged and gasping for breath, she could only stare in horror through the hair tendrils plastered to her face as the fierce-tongued charged straight for her.

Letting out a roar, it leapt. She threw herself out of the way, her hand feeling empty without the gun. It had slipped from her grip when she'd been struck across the court; in fact, her bag was missing as well. She was defenceless.

Its claw impacted against the statue causing an explosion of marble to rain down over them in huge chunks. The spitting fish started to teeter precariously on its broken plinth.

Rebecca scrambled to grab a large chunk of marble, turning as it set to strike again. But it was her shot that hit first; right in the head. Shrieking, it knocked her backwards with a glancing blow to the gut. Winded, she fell onto her rear into the water.

Gunfire tore across the concourse like echoing thunder. The creature had little time to shake off the head shot as its body was suddenly riddled with bullets, sending it crashing back into the statue. It dislodged - almost in slow motion - and fell on top of the mortally wounded creature, pinning its writhing body under the water.

Soaked to the bone, the air was biting on her skin. Breath quivering in her tight chest, she scrambled on cramping arms and legs to pull herself from the fountain. She'd barely pulled one leg over the side before she slipped down to the floor. She hissed, holding her tender midsection. Battered and bruised, and hoping she hadn't cracked anything, she picked herself up; noticing then - with some irritation - she'd ripped her pantyhose up one leg.

The sound of a clip hitting the floor drew her attention as she watched the soldier reload his powerful weapon, though her gaze drifted when she noticed her gun and bag not too far from her position. Cursing under her breath as her body ached in protest, she slowly shuffled towards her belongs, a hand supporting her painful side.

The soldier noticed her awkward movements and approached, just as she knelt down to take her gun. He crouched down beside her, his hand coming to rest gently on her arm. "Hey are you ok-" Her gun was pressed hard against his masked face.

"Who do you work for?" She managed to push through chattering teeth. "What's going on?"

He stiffened though didn't seem deterred by the weapon in his face. "Listen, you need to-"

She pushed the tangle of wet hair from her face, her pale angry features staring into the reflective goggles, emulating her fury right back to her. "NO, _you _listen! I want to know what's going on, and you can tell me how the hell I can get out of here!"

He was like a statue, suddenly quietly scrutinising her from behind his dark, concealing mask. Her face tightened, waiting for him to say something; waiting for excuses, his own anger - anything better than the dumbfound silence he seemed to be offering her. Why was he suddenly so quiet? Her finger trembled close to the trigger. She couldn't falter - her life could be in just as much danger with this man as it was with the monsters.

Finally, he spoke, his shock suddenly sparking an equal amount of her own.

"… Rebecca?"

She gaped, the gun lowering slightly, though not completely dropping away from the mysterious figure. Her eyes narrowed with confusion. The muffled voice behind the mask - there was something about it. Its smooth softness, strong and yet so comforting. It was familiar to her.

Her voice faltered with disquiet. "Who are you?"

He put his gun down on the floor temporarily as he slowly began to remove piece after piece of the mask obscuring his face. First the protective mouth guard; thin expressionless lips appeared. From under the helmet, he slowly unclasped the goggles and let them fall away into his hand.

Rebecca's jaw dropped, eyes wide with disbelief. Never in her wildest dreams could she believe who she was seeing…


	11. Chapter 10

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __copyright__ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: With unexpected delays, this chapter took longer to get out than usual. My apologies for making you wait!**

**Chapter 10**

She was an emotional car wreak - mangled in what felt like thousands of mixed emotions. She could hardly breath under the barrage.

Shocked didn't even cover the kind of state she was in; it just seemed to light a word to use. Though the bombardment of thoughts and feelings, she tried to grasp at something that made sense in this whole palaver - something that seemed real - but she was starting to believe that she had actually gone insane, and felt herself continuing to flounder in the overflowing pool inside her head.

For all the things she had experienced in her relatively short life, this deserved an award for really messing with her head. Logic simply went out the window. In all honesty, she had experienced even more absurd things that should have stayed consigned to horror movie scripts. She was surprised she hadn't been institutionalised yet for some of the things she'd seen.

She'd experienced death in more ways than she'd ever thought imaginable, but the thereafter, that was a completely different story altogether. Life after death just seemed a subject she'd faced once too often.

Still swallowed in confusion, she stared pale and wide eyed at the man who'd peeled away the last parts of his concealing mask. He should not have been there. It should have been an impossibility. Though, impossibility never seemed to stop strange things from happening in her.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but frustratingly, it refused to budge. Pale blue eyes observed her reaction with restrained surprise, though there was a certain joy and relief that peaked his lips as he gently laid a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Rebecca… I don't believe it…"

_Maybe I'm dead, or I knocked myself out… There is just no way… _But the more she tried to refuse it, the more real it became. The smell of perspiration in the air, the painful chill on her skin… She was wide awake with cold reality slapping her in the face.

She struggled to find her voice, pure disbelief trying to refuse his name to part her lips. But it eventually forced its way out, the sound small and croaky.

"… Richard…"

Officer Richard Aiken and the rest of the S.T.A.R.S Bravo team - her comrades - had died that fateful mission in the July of 1998. She'd even held Richard while he faded away, struggling with each last breath. He'd desperately fought to cling to life, but had eventually succumbed to the poison ravaging his body, and all she could do was hold his hand and cry into his shirt.

When the mansion had exploded, his body would have been incinerated. There was no way he could be there in the flesh. How on Earth could this be possible?

"They told me you'd survived, I just didn't think I'd se-"

In a forceful motion, she pushed him away, at the same time falling back on her rear. She scrambled to distance herself from him, pointing the gun up at his face again. Her sudden hostility took him by surprise and he moved back, hands up offering peaceful surrender. His eyes searched her tight expression, trying to understand what was going on.

"Rebecca, its okay! I'm not going to hurt you! You're safe."

She turned a suspicious glare on him. "This is some kind of ludicrous set up," she accused venomously. "Its starting to make a whole lot of sense to me now. Its Umbrella isn't it? Out to get me for what happened! They just can't leave it alone, as if they've got to have the last laugh in the sickest way possible."

He shook his head, confused. "Umbrella? No, you've got it wrong…" He reached out to her, offering only friendship, though she jabbed the gun at him threateningly.

"And how more sick can you get by having some impostor come along pretending to be a dead man!" Her expression and tone were filled with pure disgust.

He blanched. "What! Rebecca, it _is _me! I swear!"

"Bullshit!" She hissed, her finger quivering over the trigger. "Richard Aiken is dead. Whoever _you _are, you're just some fraudster paid to reel me in!"

"Its not easy to explain…" Something up above them moved. He noticed it out of the corner of his eye. Whatever it was, it was lurking in the shadows. He stepped towards her, seemingly unperturbed by the gun still pointed at his face. "Look, Rebecca, lets just-"

She backed up sharply. "Don't even think about it! I've sussed you out! I won't let Umbrella do this to me! It stops NOW!"

What happened next was too fast for her even to react. The creature in the shadows plunged down from above, it movement a complete blur. She didn't even have chance to turn. "REBECCA!" The high pitched shriek from behind swallowed the warning cry as two clawed feet latched onto her shoulders and yanked her from the ground. Sharp pain seared through her shoulders, drawing a horrified cry of pain from throat. The ground was swallowed by darkness as she was lifted further up into the air, her surroundings streaking past her, unidentifiable. She struggled to break free of the hold, but the claws dug in firm and unyielding.

She tipped her head back to take in her flying captor, feeling herself falling into her past ordeal all over again. It was a bat, almost the size of an elephant. This thing was probably the reason for all those tiny bats that had been around earlier.

She suddenly became aware that she was still holding the gun in her hand, having tightened her grip on it when she'd been stolen from the ground. It took all her effort to raise her arm up to aim at the monstrous bat. She couldn't target properly with its wild movements, though by the way it flew, she was certain she might just hit it in the chest.

Opening fire, she felt the bat shudder as lead met flesh. It hovered, swinging her about with frustration, and when it found she wouldn't stop shooting, eventually dropped her.

She felt the rush of the fall, which seemed to go on forever, though only last a mere few seconds. She'd closed her eyes, expecting instant death as she splattered across the floor, but instead fell into something much more squashy.

She was only slightly jarred by her fall, which had landed her in a large flower display on a first floor catwalk. She couldn't have fallen far or she would have been in a worse state for it. The poor flowers under body, while cushioning her, hadn't quite faired so well after the event.

She rolled off the display and onto the floor, catching herself on her hands and knees. Looking up over her shoulder, she kept the circling bat in her sights. Though wounded, it certainly wasn't out of the game yet.

She shifted around on her knees, leaning back to take aim as it moved in to attack. She pumped bullet after bullet into its bulk with barely considerable affect before the magazine ran dry. She had no reserves. Her bag was still on the ground floor.

The bat thrashed about in an almighty uproar, raising itself up in preparation for another attack, before it was struck by a volley of more effective ammo. Richard down below, had taken advantage of the creatures exposure to blast it to smithereens.

The assault proved too much for it to take, and with one last ear-splitting screech, it plummeted to the ground below.

Rebecca used the support of the banister to get herself back to her feet. Blood stained her blouse where the claws had pierced her skin and the fresh wounds stung like crazy, more so when she touched them. She gritted her teeth, wondering desperately where she could get first aid.

She stared down at the gun in her hand. It was useless to her now, and there was no way she was going back down to the ground floor to retrieve her other supplies.

"REBECCA!" And he was a prime reason for steering clear of the area.

She stared down over the banister at him, the man who was suppose to be Richard. Their gazes locked briefly - hers with doubt, his with hope - before she decided to make a run for it. She ignored his imploring as she took off along the catwalk, bolting off southward along the first level. She dove into a turn off - a short corridor with a fire exit at the end.

Before she'd run much further, a shot rang out behind her, a bullet taking out the neon sign above the exit.

"Stay right where you are!" A stiff female voice ordered.

Rebecca turned towards the limber woman, clad in the same gear as the other soldiers - head to toe concealed in masking black. She strode purposely towards her, seizing her arm roughly. "You're coming with me!"

Though faced with a semi-automatic weapon, Rebecca was too desperate to simply give in so easily. This woman was too cock sure of herself. It an almost unpredicted movement as the young doctor shot an elbow into her opponents solar plexus, managing to draw her over just enough to swing her up and over. The floor drew the wind out of her masked opponent. Rebecca stomped on her arm as a hand tried to latch onto her ankle and take her down. She kicked away the gun arm as it shot towards her and dropped a heavy knee into her gut.

With her opponent winded, she took the chance to snatch a loaded Heckler & Koch P2000 pistol from her holster and make a break for it. She had just rounded the corner when edge of the wall exploded into a mist of white plaster powder.

She dove into the nearest open store - 'Deano's Records', the sign said - and heaved a display cabinet in front of the doors to block it off.

Rebecca wiped the sweat from her brow, trying to catch her breath as she surveyed her environment. There was a door nestled at the back of the store, clear over the record stands. Thankfully it was unlocked when she reached it. It was both a storeroom come rest area. Right at the back, a ladder was imbedded in the wall. There was a sign clearly bolted next to it.

'_Maintenance passage access is restricted to only authorised personnel.' _

She looked up at the hatchway above in the dim light. The lock appeared to have been broken. Outside, she could hear someone tackling the main doors. Holding her breath, she climbed the ladder as fast as she could, undoing the latch and pushing the heavy cover open just enough so she could slip through.

The maintenance passage was lit by bright spotlights built into the ceiling panels. The narrow, grey passages were unmarked, so she had no clue which way to head. She would have to guess her direction while keeping an eye out for enemies. She headed west, trying to formulate her next plan of action. There was a multiple spawning of mirror passages that seemed to swallow her sense of direction completely. The map inside her head had suddenly become a child's scribble, becoming more and more jumbled as her overactive mind jumbled things together.

She turned off at the end of the corridor, running headlong into a person hiding around the corridor. Yelping, they tried to raise the weapon, but she intercepted the action and slapped their arm aside before promptly shoulder tackling the person to the ground.

There was a pause as they stopped to stare at one and other.

"Dylan?"

"Holy shit! You scared me!"

She gave him a helping hand back to his feet. "How did you get up here?"

"I found a ladder in the gardening store on the first floor. Managed to shake off the bats down there and some other fucking weird things! Been wandering around here ever since, hiding from those soldier dudes."

"You are one lucky guy," she said with a thankful sigh. "But promise me you won't run off again, okay? You put yourself in unnecessary danger." He nodded, bowing his head like a scolded schoolboy. "Have you still got your radio?"

He looked sheepish, eyes still averted. "Umm, I think I dropped it…"

She sighed, reaching for her own, only to find thin air where it should have been. She looked at her belt confused. Low and behold it really wasn't there. Somewhere in the mayhem of the last ten minutes of so, her radio and herself had become parted. But after all that water and that mighty fall, it might not have been any use to her anyway even if she still had it.

It was her turn to look sheepish. "Yeah, I guess I lost mine, too. Oh well, as long as we stick together, we'll be fine." If only she really believed that.

Dylan finally took in the state of her. Pale, dirtied and blood stained. "Are you okay? You look a mess."

"I feel a mess," she muttered bitterly. "But we'll save my ordeal for a later time."

Umbrella, S.T.A.R.S, the viral monsters… she wasn't ready to sit down and talk about it all just yet.

"If we can get to the roof, we could use the emergency ladder to get off of the building," he suggested.

"Good idea." She'd given up on the idea of retrieving the keys anyway. The area near the car park was just too dangerous to get back to anyway, and on top of that, she would have to run around finding something to fish the keys out with, while avoiding monsters and gun-totting soldiers. Nope - Plan B was certainly the better option. "How do we get there?"

"If we carry on north, we should hit a right turn at the far end and find a ladder halfway down. It should get us where we want to go… I think."

"Only one way to find out. Stay behind me, okay?" He didn't argue. She had the firepower after all, and he didn't exactly look ready to front a confrontation. Neither was she, truth be told, but one of them had to be the strong party member.

Now the adrenaline was starting to wear off somewhat, each and every sharp stabbing pain started to make itself known. This was especially the case with her feet. Her toes were nigh on numb now from exposure to the cold. She tried to focus past her bodily suffering, instead focusing on the sounds emitting around her - the clunking of the pipes, the hum of the lighting fixtures.

"You know," Dylan said, cutting through the silence with his high-pitched whisper. "I don't think you even told me your name."

They reached the final corner to turn right. She glanced carefully around it, giving the corridor the all clear before casting a glance back at him. "Its Rebecca."

"Okay, nice, uh, yeah…" He quietly cleared his throat, following like a shadow as she moved on. "So, are you a cop for a living or something?"

"Once. Not anymore. I'm a Doctor."

"A Doctor with gun savvy. I thought you were suppose to heal your patients…" The joke was met with a blank look. He gave a nervous laugh, looking away. "Heh, sorry…"

Despite the terrible joke, it was somewhat nice to hear a normal conversation, just to break through the fear rife in the air.

They reached the ladder to climb up to the next level. The hatch above was kindly unlocked.

"Ladies first."

"Mind where you put your eyes," she forewarned as she began to ascend the ladder. He might not have understood what she meant at first, but as she glanced down at him as she reached the top, she found him keeping averted eyes, blushing beet red. She brushed down the back of her skirt and pushed the panel open. She peeked cautiously through the gap. Just another empty corridor - and the ladder to the third level was just across the way.

She slid out, offering him a hand, though he waved it off.

They proceeded up to the third level. There was no ladder waiting for them on this level, and they couldn't be too sure which of the doors actually led up outside.

Just as Dylan stepped off the ladder, the lights started to flicker in tandem.

"Oh, now what?" She felt Dylan inch a step closer to her.

As long as he didn't fall to pieces on her, they might just live to see another day.

A figure came skidding around the far corner, barrelling manically toward them. It was another one of the soldiers. Rebecca rose her gun toward him, though noticed with a frown that he hadn't even noticed they were there. He kept looking back over his shoulder, clutching his rifle for dear life. He was panting amidst pitiful whimpers, forcing himself to keep moving. He only actually acknowledged them just as he was about to careen into the pair. They tried to get out of his way, but in the narrow space it was an impossible feat, and he ended up clipping them, sending them all sprawling across the floor.

The soldier dropped his rifle, and in his state of panic, left it behind as he scrambled back to his feet and took off. He left Rebecca and Dylan to contemplate why he was in such a state.

Then, the lights cut out.

"Shit…" Dylan muttered into the darkness. After a moments fumbling, he managed to turn on his torch, almost blinding Rebecca.

"Be careful where you point that!"

"Sorry." He pointed the beam of light in the direction the soldier had ran. "What do you think that was about?"

"It wasn't a good sign." A scratching resonance suddenly drew her up straight. Slowly, Dylan pointed the light back in the opposite direction. Rebecca's hand slithered over to the rifle. She figured she'd be needing it.

Thankfully, it was loaded.

Something was moving up around the corner, something that seemed to be dragging itself with intent.

"Dylan," she whispered and offered him the pistol. "Whatever it is, aim for the head or whatever looks like a head…"

He took the gun from her, swallowing heavily. With a pensive look, he nodded in understanding.

The scratching grew louder and more grating the closer it came. The torch light shook in Dylan's trembling light as they waited on tender hooks for whatever it was to appear.

"Steady," she said softly, raising the rifle in expectation. He followed suit with the pistol.

Then it appeared. A thing that should never have even reached the conceptual stage. Spider-like with a mixture of hair and scales covering its body, the large beast lurched out, turning its bulbous head directly toward them. Its face could only be described as that of a black, mutilated crocodile missing most of its long mouth. Two of its eight legs were damaged beyond help, not that it seemed troubled by this hindrance. It gave a low roar, which gurgled between the flaps of its grisly lips.

"Shoot!" She ordered. He didn't need telling twice.

The bullets roared like thunder, creating their own leaded storm that battered the thick hide of the monstrous creature. It shuddered as it endured the onslaught, still dragging itself forward.

Dylan's shots were hitting wildly, hardly making an impact, though Rebecca had a good aim on the face, tearing off flesh, teeth and hair.

She was scoring direct head shots, but yet it wasn't even going down.

"STOP!" She ordered Dylan, though by the time she'd said so, he'd already emptied the magazine.

Their direct attack just wasn't going to work. It was time to switch tactics.

"RUN!"

They scrambled to their feet and took off as the creature, ravaged and bleeding, kept up its pace.

Bolting, they ran blindly though up the passage, shoulder to shoulder. They had put a good distance between themselves and the creature, but it had started to drag itself more determinedly. It wasn't simply intent on letting them go.

The torch beam danced off the metal surfaces, as they searched for the right door. Most they found didn't even have handles.

"Where do we go?" He panted, skidding on a sharp left turn.

"I don't know!" She clutched her side as cramps started to hit. She fought through it, trying not to slow her speed.

"Wait!" Dylan came to an abrupt stop and she collided with him. He just about managed to keep them both on their feet from the impact. Before she could speak, he shone the light on a red rimmed door in front of them, neatly labelled with: 'Roof Access'

_Finally! _ She tried the handle.

Her blood ran cold. It wouldn't budge.

"Open it!" Dylan shouted, as if she wasn't even trying.

"I can't!" Her hands ran across the surface. It wasn't metal like she'd first thought. The grey paint had been disconcerting.

"What are y-"

"We've got to ram it!"

The monster rounded the corner, letting out a exasperated growl - a mixture of blood and saliva pouring from its disfigured maw.

"Wh-"

"JUST DO IT!" She knew this was going to hurt. Her shoulders were still in bad shape from her unwanted flight earlier, but it was either that or run around in circles and wait for the thing to catch up with them. She shouldered the rifle and took in a deep breath, hoping to God that the door wasn't going to be too solid. Dylan still looked like he was trying to contemplate what she'd commanded of him, and realised she would have to lead by example.

Slamming the door hurt like hell. It reverberated under her weight but did nothing more. Catching on, Dylan mimicked her movement with a bit more force aided by his slightly bulkier weight. But the door still refused to give in. Rebecca tried to keep in sync with him, teeth gritted, as they pummelled the door together, eyes darting into the gloom as the creature drew ever closer.

_Open, damn it! _She heard it cracking at the hinges, but they still had a fair way to go before they could actually pass through it. But time was running out. This wasn't going to work…

One of the bizarre spidery legs touched her thigh and she recoiled in horror, gasping loudly as she reached for the gun, fumbling to get it from her shoulder.

Its movement was abruptly halted. She grabbed the torch from Dylan and aimed it straight into the face of the creature. Even with its demonic features, it managed to look startled. Rebecca, dry mouthed, was caught in its empty gaze. Why had stopped all of a sudden?

Something else moved behind it. No - _on _it. A snaking creature was wrapping itself around its body. The more she stared at it, the quicker she realised it wasn't a snake.

It was a tentacle.

"Holy…" She breathed and the monster was suddenly yanked back away from them, its heavy girth hoisted up into the air. Her eyes went past its struggling body thrashing about in the air to the all too familiar figure who had joined them.

It was that girl again.

Her white, soulless eyes stared at the hideous creature she'd just plucked off the ground, head tilting from side to side as she tried to decipher what it was, maybe even try to understand it. She seemed quietly fascinated by the 'toy' she had just found, turning it over with intent. The spidery legs lashed out at her angrily, its body becoming more and more aggressive in its attempts to break free. Eventually she gave up caring about the strange creature and let her tentacles tighten their grip around it.

Behind her, Dylan was ignoring the action and had continued to pound the door. Rebecca managed another one or two strikes before her attention was drawn back to the girl finally crushing the creature as if she'd just popped a grape. The sound was disgusting, but not quite as bad as watching the projectile juices and gunk spraying across the walls and floor as its hide was twisted and crumpled up like hairy paper. The scene was enough warning of what would happen to them if she didn't focus. She had to keep tackling the door.

Fortunately for her, Dylan's persistence cracked the middle of the door and her own sudden slam sent her straight through it, falling butt first onto the awaiting staircase beyond.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Dylan peeled back a section of the splintered wood and squeezed through just as she regained her composure and got back to her feet. The girl's furious scream sent them scampering for safety up the cold, stone steps.

The cold air that rushed through the door at the top took her breath away - it seized her chest in an icy grip that almost sent her straight to her knees. There was no cold quite like this, spreading numbness in a heartbeat to all her extremities. She had to stay focused - think about something other than being cold.

Dylan slammed the door behind them, putting his back to it. Relief washed over his face, though she didn't share the feeling. There was still a long way to go yet.

Rebecca took a moment to catch her breath before she spoke. "Where's this ladder then?"

Before he had a chance to respond, another voice cut across the rooftop, apparently in the midst of conversation with some unseen person.

"I've got the all clear on the level… What, really? He ran? Well, would you expect anything else from him?" A soldier rounded the corner, chuckling to himself. "No, the chopper isn't here yet. I think its close though. I can hea-" He finally noticed he had company. "Wait a second - HEY!"

Rebecca was quick off the draw, though her aim was hindered by shoulders seizing up. The shot the rifle pumped out hit the man in the kneecap, blowing it out. He crumpled against the wall, spewing out a plethora of foul language through his agony.

"Drop your weapon!" She told him. Dylan even pointed his empty gun as the soldier, trying to further the threat. The guy wasn't to know he had no ammo.

"The fuck… ? You shot me!" He pulled off the pieces of his mask, revealing a somewhat familiar face. Blonde hair, deep brown eyes… She knew this man, vaguely. The guy who she had replaced on Bravo team… Joseph something… She quaked, a part of her telling her solemnly it was all a lie. This couldn't be that man. He was dead and gone.

"Do I have to shoot you again?" She snapped. "DROP IT!"

"Come on, I'm here to help! Please don't shoot me again!" But he seemed to relent to her request, seeing how pissed off she was and tossed his own rifle to the ground.

"And the pistol!" Begrudgingly, he dropped that as well. He squinted at her face thoughtfully, then gaped with a certain amount of recognitions.

Joseph Frost sunk down to his rear, clutching his shattered, bleeding knee. "You're that Chambers chick… The one that joined the Bravos…"

"What's he talking about?" Dylan leaned in, asking her quietly.

"We'll discuss it later. Just grab his weapons."

Dylan compiled, tentatively going to snatch them up off the ground.

"Fuck, it has be you, the one they're after… Jesus…" Joseph removed the bandana and tied it around his injury to stem the bleeding. He let out a cry of pain as he knotted it in place.

Rebecca strode towards him, pointing the gun in his face. "WHY THE HELL DO THEY WANT ME? TELL ME!"

"I don't know! It was just a guess! We were just given orders! I swear I didn't know you were going to be here. Fuck, the others don't even know!" He leaned his head back, sucking in a breath through his nose. "This just couldn't get anymore fucked up."

She chewed her lip, teetering between rage and uncertainty. She turned to Dylan and sighed. "Lets just get out of here. I'm sick of this."

Gun shots could be heard muffled through the roof door. A fight had broken out in the corridor below. Had the other soldiers encountered that freakish girl? It was the only plausible conclusion.

But that sound was soon drown out by the approaching helicopter drawing on their position, its blazing front spotlight lighting up the sky like an artificial sun.

The icy wind picked up, whipping her hair across her tired face like lashing knives.

"The police?" Dylan asked hopefully.

"If only…" She left the loaded pistol in Dylan's care as she crossed the rooftop, feeling tears of frustration fill her eyes. There just seemed to be no escape, no matter what she did. Why? Why, why, why…

The helicopter hovered at the roof's edge, the spotlight turning to engulf her. Though she was unable to see a thing, she aimed the half loaded rifle she'd claimed first blindly ahead of her and let rip. The chopper faltered and rose, though lost its main spotlight in an explosion of glass. Another light from the rear cabin quickly replaced it, sending blazing white light across the concrete surface. She tossed the empty rifle aside, turning sharply as the roof door kicked open. Roughly eight soldiers piled there way out, amongst them, was Richard.

Rebecca felt like a lone gunman against what seemed like a whole army. Dylan quickly rushed to join her side, though his presence didn't nothing to help ease her fears.

"What the fuck is going on? Who are these people?" The young security guard demanded to know, then snapped his gaze on Rebecca. "You know, _don't you_?"

"I only know that something FUCKING BIZARRE is going on! I don't even know what's real anymore!" She aimed the rifle up at the group, afraid but determined not to be taken down. She wouldn't be defeated, not after everything she had been through.

She couldn't meet Richard's eyes. They were full of sadness.

The soldiers gazed between each other, keeping their weapons lowered. They couldn't read each other's faces through the masks, but there seemed to be some sort of unspoken communication between themselves, as one by one, a small number of them began to remove their head gear. With each face that appeared, Rebecca's heart felt like it was being crushed inside her chest.

_This is not happening to me…_

Faces that should have been consigned to the annuls of history emerged from beneath those masks. All her former team mates, all who should have been long gone by now. Captain Enrico Marini, Kenneth J. Sullivan, Forest Speyer, Edward Dewey, and even Brad Vickers, who Jill had reported killed in Raccoon City.

One of the few remaining masked soldiers, a woman, who seemed more than a bit irritated by them unmasking themselves, kept her rifle trained on Rebecca. "Stand down, NOW! Drop your weapon on the ground." The authoritarian British voice demanded. "I will only ask you once. Don't make me take you out."

Rebecca scowled. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'd rather DIE!"

The woman scoffed. "That can be arranged."

"We won't need to come to that," Enrico gruffly cut in, stepping in front of his comrade's line of fire.

"You know you orders, Marini," she hissed, poking him in the vest with the barrel of her weapon.

Forest noticed Joseph struggling to push himself away from the wall. "You okay over there, Joe."

"Just peachy. Just wondering how long its going to take me to pick the remaining pieces of my knee off the floor."

Forest whistled with sympathy. "Nasty. What did you do to piss her off?"

"I DIDN'T-?"

"That's enough." An unfamiliar man pushed his way from the back, carrying himself with an air of power. His grey peppered hair was shaven to a bare stubble across his head, showing off a pattern of nicks and scars on the hairline. "You know what we came for." In a split second he pulled a gun from his jacket and fired.

Rebecca was struck in the shoulder before she even had time to blink. It punctured straight into an already open wound. She cried out, stumbling back, though managing to catch herself from falling. Her hand reached for her shoulder, fingers brushing the dart embedded there. She pulled the offending item out and tossed it away, but it was too late. The damage was done. The full contents had been administered and the effect was almost immediate. "You bastards…"

Wavering, she staggered towards Dylan, thrusting the rifle into his hands. The young man stared at her with wide eyes as her unfocused gaze locked on his.

"Shoot them… Don't let them get away…" She crumpled under the power of the drug, her companion powerless to help her.

She found herself, laying on her back, staring up into a clear night sky. The stars shone so beautifully that night. She didn't know if she'd ever get the chance to appreciate them again. Dylan disappeared from her line of vision, and instead found her former comrades crowding around her, their movements almost in slow motion.

Richard was kneeling down beside her, concern clearly plastered across his face. His gloved hand came to rest gently against her cheek.

"Leave me alone," she whispered before the darkness eventually sucked her down.

Dylan didn't even get to react with the rifle as Sunny disarmed him in a matter of seconds.

Vash moved to look over Rebecca. She was out cold. He grunted with satisfaction and reached for his radio. "Target acquired. Call in the clean up crew."

Enrico was fuming. "What the hell! Is this some kind of joke?"

Richard raised Rebecca up, propping her frail body against his knee. "No wonder they didn't want us to know who we were after…"

Vash didn't even look at them as he spoke. "If the boss wants you to know the details, he'll tell you. Don't forget, you're just the muscle, so save your whining."

"Hey, sir," Sunny cut in, "what do we do with this guy?" She pointed at a trembling Dylan. His eyes darted between the group, worrying what fate they had in store for him. Though, the worrying stopped when a shot struck him clean in the temple. He never saw it coming. Blood exploded in a red rain as he fell lifelessly to the ground.

The group stared at the fallen man, having been caught off guard by the unexpected shot. Vash turned his gaze from the corpse to the woman in the doorway.

Aka lowered her weapon, her face stone cold emotionless. "No baggage," she said, holstering her weapon, and as quietly as she had come, left the scene.

"You people are fucking unreal sometimes," Forest muttered under his breath, wishing he'd had a cigarette on him right then.

Joseph had gone back to sitting down, giving up trying to stand. "I don't mean to sound whiny but, MY KNEE IS FUCKING KILLING ME!"

Sunny stepped away from the blood pool forming under Dylan's corpse, shaking her head. "Shut up, Frost. You'll live. Unfortunately..."


	12. Chapter 11

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __copyright__ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I've been trying to work out the flow of this chapter for way too long. It started to become a bit of a challenge when I couldn't figure out what I wanted to use this chapter for. Really, its a bit of a break between the previous action before I get back into my dramatic flow again. I'm hoping my next update won't take another half a year! **_  
_

**Chapter 11**

The pattern the blood made as it spread across the crisp white cotton was akin to watching a flower blossom in a burst of spring life. Except this wasn't life.

It was death.

How fascinating it was to watch life bleed away in thick crimson. The way the blade had punctured through the shirt and into the flesh behind it as if she were slicing into a piece of tender steak. How easy it was to kill in a swift and lethal motion.

With the act, her innocence ebbed away as freely as the blood that flowed down the back of the man who lay slumped across the desk in front of him. His eyes were locked on her eyes, face set in pure shock. They never wavered, fixed upon her as if they were trying to see down into her very soul. But there was nothing behind those eyes anymore.

This was her first victim. Her father…

A sharp noise pierced through the air. Like a scream.

There was nobody else in the room with them. The man in front of her lay dead. Not a single sound left her lips. Around her, like paint running down a canvas, the scene began to melt away in a blur of colour.

Aka drifted back to consciousness to the bleeping of her alarm clock. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the early morning gloom encapsulating around her. She leaned over towards the night stand, and slammed her hand down on the clock to silence the insistent noise. The red numbers on the face of it told her it was eight in the morning.

She's probably slept approximately three and a half hours at a guess. Her body was used to it by now, living a life where she barely had time to breath let alone sleep. But she would never give it up for anything.

Stretching, she rose despite her body urging her to stay nestled beneath the covers. But there was no time to rest further. She was due in a video briefing in an hours time. A shower and food would be suffice to revive her.

Under the hot blast of a needle-like spray, she found herself recalling the very vivid images of her father's death, the very same images she had not long ago been reliving inside her dreams.

The power he had once radiated had evaporated the minute she had plunged the letter opener into his back. He certainly hadn't expect his own daughter of all people to turn on him.

He'd deserved it, though. A greedy philanderer who had treated her mother like a china doll to be kept behind closed doors. He had dealt so much in sordid underworld activities, arranging the deaths of those who got in his way, that it was almost inevitable that he would be done away with. She had felt blessed that it had been her hand that had finished him off. She had been no more his daughter than a possession to be owned.

Thoroughly cleansed, her skin flushing a fresh pink, she stepped out of the shower. She wrapped herself a freshly laundered towel before reaching for the hair dryer.

She slowly rubbed her palm across the bathroom mirror to reveal her face in the glass. Black hair whipped around her pale face, dark eyes like endless empty pits. It was the reflection of a soulless killer. 'Red Winter': The cold, blood-soaked soldier.

Slipping on a kimono and linen slacks, she moved into the kitchen to prepare herself some toast and a pot of green tea, which she took with her through to a small office she had temporarily set up in the smallest room of her rented apartment.

Most things were still packed into locked containers, neatly categorised and stacked up around the room. The only thing unpacked from her belongings was a laptop and an external hard drive, sat on a narrow table by the window. Instead of opening the blinds to let in the morning light, she switched on a small lamp on the corner of the table. She wanted to keep things as isolated as possible.

She liked order and neatness in her life. Easy accessibility was the key to survival. Having moved around so much, she always had to be ready to disappear in a flash, leaving no trace behind. There was no excess in her life. She had no time for material things. The only items she spared a second thought for were her weapons. Especially her katana. A family heirloom from her mother's side. It was not the material value she treasure about it, it was the fact that it had saved her life efficiently in the field that it had almost become an extension of herself.

Once upon a time she had been lavished in gifts. None had held any meaning to her, especially by how frequently they were tossed in her direction. They were supposed to prompt some sense of happiness in her contained life. She had been stifled in a world of sheer greed, unable to step outside without her actions being questioned. It was her mother who'd had it worse. She was forced to stay at home like the good little wife, cutting herself off from the outside world. Apparently she was so precious to him that he couldn't fathom the idea of anyone else seeing or being anywhere near her. And she let him treat her that way, ever meek and obedient. There was no resistance in her kind heart.

He expected the same of Aka, too. With a vile sneer he would demand respect and full cooperation, as if she were a dog to command. He tried to tear her down piece by piece to turn her into the same submissive shell her mother was. Instead he merely tore down her sense of morality.

He was an evil bastard, pure and simple. What he got in the end he had deserved a long time before. His death secured her freedom, forever bound in crimson.

He never saw it coming. Never even guessed. His shock was another triumph of her meticulous planning. What made it all so perfect was how the web of blame neatly weaved around a hapless cohort, who in the day of her father's death, had been around their home making threats to overthrow him if he didn't change his ways. It all fell into place without anyone ever suspecting her. Now she was free to pave a path of her choosing, towards a destiny filled with daring and intrigue.

She left her mother in the care of relatives before leaving to start her life afresh. They had neither seen in spoken in a very long time. Aka had no worries when it came to her. She was living a peaceful life amongst caring people. She was certain her mother wondered what had become of her, not even knowing where in the world she was. In fact, very few people did.

She didn't mind being alone. She felt more comfortable away from other people. Unhindered by interference, she was able grow beyond her own natural abilities. She wanted to be a master of the natural environment. A perfect unaltered human.

It was probably why she both liked and disliked her associate, Albert Wesker. He was a forced to be reckoned with. A man who had transcended mortal constraints. His only negative side, by her reckoning, was that he was too power hungry. He wanted it all and more. In comparison, she asked for nothing. She didn't want to own anything more than herself.

Eventually, he would decide that she was no longer useful to him. She accepted this as if it were an unavoidable fate.

Wesker didn't keep allies for very long. One day, he would decide she was a threat to his ascendancy to power and he would want her dead. She wouldn't go down without a fight. But for now, she played along, just to see where it all led.

She slid onto the padded leather chair, powering up her laptop. She had plenty of time to spare uploading the materials from last night's operation. There was so much data to flick through, extensive files of audio and visual material that she knew Wesker would find satisfaction going through.

Every experimental creature was documented with its abilities and faults, and the 'Binder' experiments were evaluated on their skills and performance. The REMEGEN team had passed along their own scientific data on physical and emotive response they had recorded from equipment inbuilt into their protective gear. Every skirmish and movement was recorded and mapped out, so that Wesker could experience it all as if he'd been there himself. She'd taken such in-depth notes that she could have easily been writing a novelised account of the whole night. She'd typed every last detail up the moment she had returned to the apartment in the early hours of morning, so not to miss a single detail while it was all fresh in her mind. Her laptop screen was filled with pictures, documents full of numbers and jargon and performance graphs that all dictated the success of their field test. The 'Binder' project at exceeded all their expectations, with most of the subjects performing to the utmost of their abilities.

The data was ready and waiting for upload in one single, huge file. She had just finished off her toast and was sipping her tea when at nine on the dot, Wesker logged on. She opened the video channel to engage in conversation face to face.

He sat reclining in a tall back chair, surrounded by monitors soundlessly working around him. His dark-clad figure almost blended into the shadowy room, highlighted only by the glow of the video screens. His pale face was clad in dark sunglasses, as was usual with him. It had become quite an iconic part of his attire.

"Good morning, Miss Buchholz. I trust the field test went well?"

She tapped at the keys of her laptop, initiating a link up to his systems. "The subjects performed better than was anticipated. They were fascinating to watch in action. I am sending you all the data now." She initiated the upload.

"Was the special assignment also a success?"

"We obtained and subdued the target. She is being treated at REMEGEN's exclusive hospital. She will be detained in their secure unit thereafter."

"Good."

The file took fifteen minutes to finish transferring. Wesker opened the files up on another screen, glancing over the different files before nodding his approval. "Excellent. Is the report you included a complete one?"

"It is."

"I look forward to reading it. I shall consult you at the same time tomorrow once I have had time to analysis the data."

"I shall keep an eye on how things progress with Rebecca Chambers."

"Good." He turned to look at her, something glinting just behind those dark glasses. Just one of the many mysteries regarding this man. "I want to you to make sure things keep running smoothly. Any problems, you deal with them swiftly, understood?"

"I do not disappoint."

He smiled, one that might have chilled her down to the bone, but she had far from lost her fear along time ago. "Until tomorrow then." He logged out.

Aka leaned back in her chair, filled with a controlled satisfaction that never once perked a smile on her blank face. Briefing over, she shut down her laptop and packed it away into its leather satchel. She stored the external hard drive in a box under the desk, which she locked with a key taped under the table.

She had a few hours yet before she headed into REMEGEN's headquarters for a working lunch with Hewitt. The rest of the morning was her own.

* * *

Fong Ling arose just past seven that morning to shower and change in preparation for her departure to Baltimore, where Nicolas Underwood lived and worked. Though the man was a freelance writer, he had bought himself an office, where he and a few fellow writers set up a home base.

She had spent all of the afternoon and evening before learning as much as she could about the man, hoping he would lead her straight to 'Red Winter', and then maybe onto Albert Wesker.

Underwood travelled wherever the work took him. His personal life reflected how much his career seemed to swallow up all of his time. He was divorced with one child - a son - who lived with his ex-wife in Brisbane, Australia. The distance said something about their overall relationship.

She had made a call to Underwood's office in the late afternoon, finding with luck that he was back in the city and was due in the office the next day. Though they could not guarantee he would be available, she said she would pop by to see if she could have an 'interview' with him, with interest towards his most recent book. In reality, she needed to meet him in the flesh, to know who she was dealing with before she went in guns blazing. She wanted to catch him off guard; get him on her side before she held the knife to his throat.

The man was a worm, that much she could deduct from all the digging she had done. There was nothing at all redeeming about how the man worked and the methods he used to obtain his stories. But she had to keep in mind that he could be a potentially dangerous foe if he was working with the likes of Albert Wesker. She'd had enough experience in the past to know appearances could be deceptive.

It was nearing half eight when Bruce appeared, bringing them a hearty albeit greasy breakfast. His mood had at least improved somewhat since the night prior. His superiors had given him a rigorous ear bending. They hadn't been too pleased to find out how close he actually was to her.

Bruce placed her breakfast tray down on the table. "So, all set and ready to go?"

"Oh yes, I'm raring to meet this Mr Underwood, just to see how much of an insect he really is."

"I'm sure you can charm the information you want out of him with that seductive smile of yours. Or, failing that, you could just break his legs."

Fong Ling sniffed at the concoction of pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. She couldn't get over the types of food the Americans seemed willing to slop together. "I have a feeling that it might not take a lot to break our Mr Underwood. And I don't mean his legs."

Bruce slid into the seat opposite, tucking in to his matching breakfast dish. "Wish I could be there just to see you slap him around, but my superiors have got something else they want me to look into. They sounded a bit uncertain."

Fong Ling's fork faltered just above the stack of food. "They've taken you off watchdog duty?"

"I've been compromised, apparently." He chuckled between mouthfuls of food. "But that doesn't mean I won't still be hanging around."

"That's good to hear." She tasted her food tentatively. The mixture was something her palette couldn't decide whether to love or hate. "So, are they sending someone else to watch over me?"

"I doubt it. They seem happy enough with you for now. And I'm guessing they figure I won't just leave you alone anyway." He smirked, one which she instantly matched. "So, I don't have to worry about someone trying to steal my place in your bed."

She scoffed loudly. "As if I would so easily be seduced by another one of you cocky Americans."

"Cocky and damn proud, too!"

"So, what is this thing they are uncertain about?"

"I have no idea. They called me when I was out picking up breakfast. Something about mysterious helicopters. I'll find out more when I get there."

"I think it good for you to have more excitement! It must have been a boring task simply just to watch over me."

"Boring? Hardly!" He wiggled his brows at her. She couldn't help but smile in response.

"Well I hope you enjoy chasing these mysterious helicopters."

"Thanks… Though I hope its not all going to lead to something too sinister…"

* * *

_Hours earlier…_

"Nurse Gallo!"

Alejandra Gallo quickly stuffed her romantic novel into her desk drawer, and tried to make herself look busy over the paperwork on her desk. In truth, she had finished it all hours ago. Glancing as casually as possible towards her office door, she found herself slightly astounded by the security team that piled their way through into the ward led by none other than the ever charming Sunny herself.

She rose and moved quickly into the doorway, just as a new patient was brought in. A woman she'd never seen before. _When did they start treating people outside of the company? _She didn't recognise her as an employee; and she certainly wasn't new either. Anyone joining the company had a medical record prepared for them from day one.

_I hope its not another one of their 'subjects'… _Alejandra chewed her lip with uncertainty. She only knew the barest about her employing company. Anything that occurred 'downstairs' was classified. Heck, even a lot of things coordinated in her ward were managed by the company, especially the medication she was ordered to give to some of her patients.

This was getting to the last straw. Where was this authority she was supposed to have over her own ward? She approached Sunny, who was instructing her comrades to place the woman on the closest bed.

"Would you like to tell me who she is?"

Sunny turned her sharp gaze on her. "A guest." It was all she seemed willing to divulge.

Alejandra narrowed her eyes. "If you're going to leave random strangers here, I would like a little more to go on!"

Sunny didn't miss a beat. She slapped a piece of paper straight into her hands. Scowling, she glanced down at the neatly handwritten paperwork, signed by the security team medic. It indicated a list of medication to give the patient, including a strong sedative. Alejandra raised a brow. There wasn't much to go on.

"She was intercepted on our mission. You'll to treat her wounds as quickly as possible. We'll be moving her in about three hours."

Alejandra's eyes narrowed to a glare. "Why wasn't she transferred to a civic hospital? This is highly irregular! Is there something else I need to kn-"

"Just do your job, Gallo!" Sunny snapped at her, eyes like ice. "Okay, guys, lets go!" Her team retreated as quickly as they'd come. Before exiting through the double doors, Sunny turned back to her. "You've now got two hours and fifty nine minutes..." Giving a snide smirk, she pushed her way out, letting the doors slam behind her.

Alejandra muttered profanities under her breath, looking back down at the barest thread of information in her hands. The woman's name had been left off of the sheet. On purpose, she guessed. This copy had to be second hand, omitting any relevant information about the woman and how she'd ended up in this condition in _her_ ward.

The two other nurses on duty stepped forward from the corner they'd been hiding in, their attention on the woman in the bed with as much confusion as their superior. Alejandra shook her head at the situation, sliding a hand down her tired face as she regained her composure and stepped up to the bed to meet her patient.

The woman laying motionless before her was probably a couple of years younger than herself. She had long wavy hair dyed a light auburn with streaks of gold-blonde; not long done either, as she could barely see her roots. Blood had soaked across the chest of her once white blouse, and as Alejandra peeled back the cotton material, she found numerous puncture wounds below her clavicle on both sides. Her torso was starting to turn purple in splotches from bruising. She would be lucky not to have broken ribs.

_What on Earth… What happened to this poor woman? _There was no time to waste. She spun around to face her subordinates, who jumped to attention like little soldiers. "Right, come on. We've got work to do."


	13. Chapter 12

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __copyright__ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I doubt you can believe your eyes. I actually updated a few days after a previous update for this story. But seeing as I'm on a roll with this story, you might be seeing more regular updates. Though, how long that will last, we'll never know! Anyway, onwards with the story!**

**Chapter 12**

For a time, Rebecca felt like she was floating through a fog. She had a surreal feeling of numbness as she tried to navigate through the haze, but there was something stopping her from remembering what was going on. Strange images cut in and out of her vision, blurred moments that she didn't know whether were real or just a dream. Women standing over her, their faces obscured in shadow, as they appeared to poke and prod at her. Then the next moment, they were replaced by moving walls and ceiling, repeating the same endless pattern. It made her head swim watching it.

Then suddenly, WHAM, she fell back into her own conscious body.

The instant she opened her eyes, she wished she hadn't. The light felt like it was burning a hole right through her retinas and into her skull. Her eyelids flickered, fighting off the glare piercing into her over-addled brain. Wincing, Rebecca moved a hand to cover her face. It took time, but eventually the light became tolerable and instead she found herself taking into account the tingling and throbbing in each and every limb.

She tried to roll onto her side, but her ribs wildly protested with a fiery burst of fresh real pain chewing its way through the medicated smog. She hissed through dry lip, giving up the effort to stay firmly on her back.

She found herself staring at a plain white ceiling. Its smooth matte finish didn't have a single crack in it. The more she stared at it, the more she felt like she was being sucked into an empty expanse. She forced herself to close her eyes again.

Her head pulsed in time with the drumming of her heartbeat. She could almost taste it pounding heavily on her tongue. She rifled through her own brain, beating back the cobwebs, demanding herself to remember what happened.

The fog lifted like a silk veil from a display, the memories pouring across her in liquid succession. Her breath was caught tight in the back of her throat.

She had been trapped in the mall, chased by hideous monsters and haunted by 'ghosts'. Just recalling her dice with death drew a cold sweat across her brow. It was if those nights in the Arklay Mountains had seen fit to repeat themselves like some bad movie sequel.

There wasn't a shadow of a doubt that she had taken a pounding that night. Recalling the extent of her struggle with the monsters, a part of her was worried that she might have become virally infected. She remembered Jill telling her of her own infection by the T-Virus. She had only survived by untimely intervention and the luck of their actually being a cure close by. Not that the poor citizens of Raccoon City had known about it.

She told Rebecca of the numbness that had started to set in, masking the pain of her injuries. Jill had touched the surface of what it was like to be a zombie. To feel nothing. To be living death.

Rebecca felt alive. There was pain. A real sense of life in her. She refused to give in to her fears. As long as she still had all her faculties, she had nothing to worry about.

_Why couldn't it have all just been a nightmare? _Painstakingly, she forced herself to sit up. The thick sheet as white as the rest of the room slipped away from her as she rose to prop herself against the wall to the side, eyeing her colourless surroundings with unnerved curiosity. It was no hospital room for certain.

White on white everywhere she looked. From the shower in the corner behind the Perspex screen to the sink far opposite. Even the toilet seat was a shiny alabaster white. Aside the bed she was sat on, there was only a table and chair left to adorn the soulless room; they were painted white as well.

Directly across from her was a door and a large window. Not surprisingly, the door didn't have a handle. She tried to position herself better to see what was beyond the window, but from where she was sat, she wasn't seeing anything at all.

It took effort and gritted teeth for her to climb out of the bed. Her bare feet touched the floor, the cold sending sharp pains right up through her bones. Sucking it up, she stood on wobbly legs, certain that as long as she was careful she would be alright. Clutching her ribs, she took one step at a time to cross the room, looking out of that window into another equally soulless room. A reasonably sized kitchen come dining room with an oval breakfast bar built into the middle.

She gave a quivering sigh, fogging up the pane before her as she rested her forehead against the window. Her own little self contained environment, devoid of heart or comfort.

It was easy to conclude that this had all been set up for her. There was no coincidence in the incident at the mall. They had been out to get her all along.

Stiff and tired from the exertion, she drifted back toward the bed, collapsing back in between the covers. The movement caused a burning pain to flare across her torso, causing her to double up cursing at herself. She reached a hand under the tunic she was wearing, feeling a thick layer of bandages tightly wrapped around her midsection. Bruised or cracked, she couldn't be sure, but her ribs were in poor shape. She was medicated just enough that it was tolerable, as long as she didn't make many more sudden movements.

She might have started to panic if she could think straight. But she was in no fit state to do battle with her captors. If anything, she needed time to think; consider her situation, see how things panned out, then she might have a chance to get herself out of her predicament.

A loud click echoed around the room, drawing her head up, eyes darting about cautiously. The voice that suddenly pierced the silence almost jolted her out of her skin.

"Good Morning, Rebecca Chambers. I'm so glad you're finally awake."

She tried to find the speaker where the voice could be coming from but there was no sign of one. It was almost like having a disembodied voice talking to her. She scowled with disgust, feeling her anger start to ignite.

"You must still be extremely exhausted. You've been out for over twenty four hours."

She was astounded at the length of time she'd been unconscious, but after the hell she'd been through, it wasn't surprisingly. Her body had been pushed well beyond its limits.

"Now that you're awake, I would like to welcome you to your new home at REMEGEN. I hope your stay here will be… fascinating."

The company name was very familiar to her. A lot of the equipment they used at her hospital had been created by REMEGEN, as was some of the drugs they used for specialised treatments. They were a pharmaceutical company that had been doing better business since Umbrella's fell from prominence.

"Who are you?" She demanded, her voice hoarse.

"How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Mr. Hewitt, the director of REMEGEN."

"What do you want from me?" She sat herself upright, clutching her ribs to elevate the pain.

"A good friend of mine requested the pleasure of your company, Miss Chambers. Most know him simply as, Hauptperson. I think you will know him by the name, Wesker."

Any last bit of colour in her face completely disappeared. The nightmare suddenly become a night terror.

"He was most insistent for us to bring you here," he continued. "He said he was anticipating gathering all of his S.T.A.R.S back together. To quote, 'his prized little toy soldiers.'"

"No…" It was all she could muster in response.

"It was quite the scheme to obtain you, Miss Chambers. My dear friend, Mr. Underwood, slipped a little something into your drink. A sophisticated little tracking device that also monitored your performance during our little field test at the mall. It gave us some very interesting statistics about you."

Shaking some sense back into herself, she seethed, shaking with a fury she couldn't quite unleash. "Underwood… That little bastard!"

"Oh, don't be too mad with him, my dear. He had no idea what he was slipping into your drink. He was merely doing a favour for me. We had another operative around to make sure you were in the right place at the right time for our little field test. I have to say, even for someone so young, you're quite a resilient little thing. Wesker was very right to pick someone like you for S.T.A.R.S. when he did."

She covered her face. "You're all twisted!" She breathlessly shouted into her hands.

"I shall let you rest for now, Miss Chambers. If you would like some food, you will have access to the kitchen area for the next few hours. Someone will be bringing you along some supplies shortly. We shall speak again at some point. Until then, I hope you enjoy your stay."

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Rebecca could do nothing but shake, wiping at the few stray tears running hot down her cheeks. It was all so cruel; so unfair.

It was all a childish game, with Wesker as the ringleader, treating her as a plaything he had decided was his to own. Was he that fixated with S.T.A.R.S, even though he'd set out to destroy them all that fateful night? She couldn't possibly understand what motivated him to play this game, and she decided she didn't want to know either. She just wanted to get out of there.

A delicate hiss drew her hands away from her face in time to see the door finish opening to the other room. It wasn't even a bare thread of freedom; just another taunt that they were controlling where she roamed.

For now, she stayed where she was.

Having used up her reserves, she slept on and off for a couple of hours. She only awoke when she heard the clunk of a heavier door out in the kitchen area open. Two burly security officers strode in.

The next thing she knew, they were there in front of her, one of them shoving a tiny cap of pills in her face.

"You're due for your medication."

She eyed the pills with suspicion before turning away. "I don't want them."

The same man shook the container at her, his voice more insistent. "We're under orders to make sure you take your medication."

She slapped the little container out of his gloved hand. "I said NO!"

A second later he had her by the hair, yanking her up off the bed and threw her down onto the floor. The pain in her ribs was explosive, drawing a tortured scream from her lungs. In her condition, she was too weak to fight against the man as he pushed her down roughly onto her front. He pulled her head back sharply, grabbing at her jaw to pry it open. The second guard had collected the scattered pills from the floor, returning with them a plastic cup of water drawn from the corner sink. By this time, the first guard had managed to get her mouth open.

Like a feral animal, she kicked and spat, but to no avail as the second guard jammed the pills one by one down her throat. She practically choked on the polyester of his gloves as he shoved his fingers down to make sure she swallowed them. After the last pill was forced down, he even had the courtesy to throw the cup of cold water down after them.

The first guard finally released her. Gagging and struggling for breath, she collapsed face first to the floor. She wretched only once, but nothing came back up. She curled up defensively, hands touching her aching, spit-covered face, trying to keep her matted hair from sticking.

She was a broken mess.

The two men dusted themselves off, acting as if they hadn't just manhandled her like a pair of vicious thugs. "Next time," the first said, "you'll be a good girl and take your medicine properly."

"Some people are just so ungrateful," the second said in a mocking tone as they walked out of the room. "The docs only wanted to make her comfortable."

"Oh well, got to be tough to do what's best for them." She could swear she heard them laughing under their breaths as they exited through the main door.

She used the sleeve of her tunic to wipe the drool from her chin. If she ever found out who those bastards were, she'd cut off their testicles with a rusty knife.

It took everything within her battered body to move again, and that was even after a prolonged time laying on the floor gathering her strength. She got to her hands and knees, about the best she could do, and crawled each painful inch towards the bed. When she reached the edge, she clutched the sheets like a lifeline, burying her face into the soft material.

She heard the door in the outer room open again. This time, only a single set of footsteps entered the room. Rebecca slowly turned towards the doorway, staring blankly out when she saw Richard placing a box on the breakfast bar. He finally noticed her position, and with concern, made his way towards the inner door.

"STAY!" She snapped, her voice raspy. He stopped immediately, doing as he was told. "Just don't come any closer…"

"Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright to you? I've been kidnapped, manhandled, maybe even probed…" She smoothed her hair back tiredly. "Does that answer your question?"

His expression was sympathetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise things were going to turn out this way. And of all the things to happen, I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Don't you dare bullshit me! This is no coincidence!"

"I guess not…"

"You were purposely out to get me; to play games with; to torment me by playing the role of a dead man! What's it like to be a toy soldier?"

He briefly frowned, contemplating her words, then sighed with a look of uncertainty. "You still think I'm an impostor, don't you?"

"I _know _you're an impostor, brought in to amuse one sick bastard. The Richard Aiken I knew, and the others for that matter, died and were incinerated when the mansion exploded! Don't you dare try to tell me you're someone you're not!"

Despite her protesting him not to, he stepped into the room, though he still kept a distance from her. "What is it going to take for me to convince you its really me?"

"They've had you briefed well in advance. All the cosy little memories and events that would try to persuade me to believe that you're Richard Aiken. Wesker would have been prepared for that."

He gave her a completely blank stare. "Wesker? Captain Wesker? What's he got to do with it?" Then something seemed to click. He gave a quiet 'oh', turning away thoughtfully. "This was to do with you mentioning Umbrella. Enrico said Wesker had been working for them." He turned back to Rebecca. "But what's Wesker got to do with this? "

"Oh come on! Don't pretend you don't know he's pulling the strings. Its what Wesker does!"

Richard was silent for a moment, absorbing her infuriated words. She didn't know if he was playing at being genuinely shocked by this information or whether he truly didn't know. But how could he not? This was Wesker wanting to gather his S.T.A.R.S back together. He'd probably had to go to special lengths to recreate the dead members of the team, maybe even suckered in some guys to go through extensive surgery to mimic them. Then again, Rebecca didn't even know what she was thinking anymore. It was all too damn confusing to comprehend.

She'd accepted her comrades had died. She'd shed tears to the point of collapse for them. Her mind wasn't accepting that these men could be here without some devious trickery.

"Rebecca, listen," Richard said softly, kneeling down just across from her. "I know it seems unreal. I'd probably be thinking the same thing as you if I saw someone who was supposed to be dead suddenly alive and well in front of me. But its true, it is me, and somehow I'm here in one piece when I shouldn't be. I was brought back, they're keeping us for…" He hesitated, stumbling over words unsaid as he shook his head, seeming to decide what he should be saying. "… God knows the full purpose. We owe them for giving us back our lives. I'd rather not be stuck here, but its just how things are."

Rebecca looked away, focusing instead on pulling herself back onto the bed. She could feel him falter, deciding whether or not to assist her, and she was glad that he didn't because she was about ready to snap. She flopped herself onto the bed, finding it didn't hurt as much as she would have expected. The medication they'd shoved down her throat was starting to take effect.

"I was so glad to find out you'd survived the mission. I'm sorry I made a crappy partner. That night was so screwed up, things happening beyond our wildest imagination. It was like a nightmare…"

"Liar…"

"What?"

"DON'T pretend to know what happened that night. You have no idea! Its all scripted for you. False memories! I won't let you deceive me! I won't!"

His expression was between hurt and exasperation. "Why won't you believe me, Rebecca? It _is _me! I know its me! There was no script to learn! Its all here!" He touched his head.

"Just leave me alone. Stop tormenting me…"

"I'm not, I don'-"

"GET OUT! JUST GET OUT! YOU'RE NOT HIM! YOU'RE NOT! FUCK WESKER! FUCK REMEGEN! FUCK YOU!" She buried her face into her pillow, trying to hide the tears, biting her lip so she wouldn't cry out.

Defeated, he rose, sadness in his gaze as she stood looking down over her fragile frame. Her rejection had been quite the blow. For now, there was nothing more to say.

As he turned to leave, he softly muttered that he'd left some things in the kitchen in a box, after which he retreated solemnly from the room.

Alone at last, she could finally let go, her anguished wails muffled into the pillow. There was no pain worse than the pain in her heart.


	14. Chapter 13

**Tomorrow of Yesterday**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil/Biohazard is __copyright__ to Capcom. All characters and situations from the games used within this story are purely for entertainment purposes only and are in no way being used for profit. I do however own any original characters and the story concept itself. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I had completely forgot that I had this chapter sitting pretty much finished. My bad! Its not a long one, but suitably intriguing... I hope! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 13**

Fong Ling arrived at Underwood's office in the late afternoon. The space he had rented with his fellow writers was on the second floor of a rather average looking building, with a dingy, half-rusted fire escape that zigzagged down the side. Though when she stepped inside, she found the interiors were quite modernised and extremely well kept, even if the wallpaper and carpet were memories of a bygone era.

The office floor space that Underwood occupied was suave in its own meagre kind of way. What few decorations were suitably matched forest scenes that complimented the shade of green of the walls. There was a very earthy, friendly feel to the place, which surprised her. It was a place that glowed with respectability; neat, tidy and concise in appearance. But underneath the paint work and picturesque art she knew there was something lingering that wasn't quite as wholesome as they tried to portray. The men that took up office here were the types that would do anything to get their hands on a good story.

She'd done her research, and was at least glad to know Underwood's colleagues weren't quite as his level of despicable. Not that they didn't have drastic faults of their own, but seeing as they had nothing to do with her case, she wasn't in the least bit concerned about them. In a way, she was looking forward to meeting Mr Underwood - just to wipe the smug smile off of his face.

She'd dressed simply and conservatively in her pale grey business suit. With the practice befitting years of undercover work, she presented herself as a determined yet meek young up-and-comer, greeting the secretary with the greatest politeness before asking if Underwood was in the building or not.

The gorgeous cocoa skinned woman behind the desk - who, in her estimation, was much too glamorous for such a mundane job - flashed an apologetic model smile and informed her that she had just missed him. He had made the briefest of visits, apparently, and had decided to take the day off to relax from his travels across the country.

Disappointing as it was that she wasn't going to get to meet Underwood just yet, she decided on a slight change of plan for now. With her devious schemes hidden behind such a sweet smile, she thanked the secretary and took her leave, though not before taking in once last peek at her surroundings.

At six, when the secretary locked up the office and went home, Fong Ling made her move. The building wasn't well secured, and she easily picked the lock to get back into Underwood's offices without being seen.

His own assigned room was right at the end of the narrow corridor, which was just as easy to pick her way into. There were not many furnishings in his office. There was the typical office fare of desk and comfy leather back chair and a couple of filing cabinets. To the back of the room was a small table, on which stood a mini bar and some imitation flowers. The room had a very plastic smell to it, clean but uninviting. He spent very little of his time there, though maybe just enough to leave her some clues about him.

The locked drawers and cabinets proved no problem to her. Even so, the contents proved of little use to her. Everything neatly filed in its place, every written project complete with its accompanying notes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Breezing through the content, she found he was meticulous, in-depth and didn't mince his words. Some of what he wrote was fascinating, borderline good, if it wasn't for the personality behind it. There were no folders filed for the last month or so in either cabinet or desk. He might have still had all his most recent with on him or at home. Anything else was unconnected. Scowling somewhat, she carefully put everything back as she had found it.

The answer machine on his desk was completely clean of messages. Even the leather address book by the side of it had no numbers written in it. He probably kept all important numbers on him at all times.

As she was stepping away from his desk, her foot nudged a trash can in the leg space underneath. There were a couple of paper items resting in the bottom.

She picked out the screwed up pieces. One was a faintly pink piece of paper, which was a note from the secretary listing a stationary order, while the other was something that quickly nudged her curiosity. A crumpled up envelope addressed to Underwood at the office. A stamping on the top left corner showed it had come from a company: **'REMEGEN INC.'**

_How fascinating… _If she was remembering correctly, that was a pharmaceutical company. Now why would he of all people be getting a letter from them? The letter that was inside was not with it anymore, and there were no other items in the trash.

She took her time to carefully go over the office, even checking the cabinets and desk again to see if the missing letter somehow remained. Unfortunately for her, she found nothing. But that didn't matter to her too much. The envelope alone was a fantastic find. Could this REMEGEN somehow be linked to Albert Wesker? She slipped the envelope into her pocket.

Creeping like a shadow, she withdrew from the offices, locking up behind her. It was almost as if she'd never been there at all.

* * *

His knee was swollen like a balloon, red and purple in colour with a raggedy stitched hole that was a distinctive bullet wound. Whoever had tended to it in the field had done a reasonable job. Not pretty, but good enough with the equipment they had. It looked sore but it was healing well. Well, she knew with his greatly enhanced healing, he wouldn't have to worry about it too long.

Alejandra finished assessing and treating the wound. Antibiotics would help the process along, though with his circumstances, it might have been a little bit pointless. "Looks nasty. Whoever treated your wound in the field did a decent enough job."

Joseph grinned, flinching a little as she gave him an injection. "Yeah, I guess. But you know, I only ever want it to be your fair hands treating me."

She smiled, pretending to gush. "Oh you flatterer! Such charming words!" She'd been as careful as she could rewrapping the wound, but with this kind of injury it would have been hard to help support it without causing too much pain. "I hope it doesn't hurt too much."

"Like a bastard at first. If anyone tells me that getting shot in the knee doesn't hurt, I'd call them a straight up liar. Anyone with any sense would be on the floor screaming like a girl." He sat back, admiring her handy work. "But after they fixed me up and gave me some of those magic drugs, I felt pretty dandy. Started off the healing process quite nicely. Doesn't look too good at the moment, but hell, I didn't expect it to sprouting roses and shining a holy light so soon after!" He leaned forward with a suave smile. "Though I might try, just for you. Do you like pink or red ones?"

"Won't be it be a wonderful day when you can start growing flowers out of your kneecaps!" She ticked off his medical sheet, gazing at him over the edge of the clipboard. "The next time I see you, I want to hear more effective chat up lines."

Joseph looked mock hurt. "And here I thought you were impressed with me!"

She stopped to pat him on the head. "Oh, don't worry, you're a very entertaining man. You always bring sunshine to my afternoon. Don't give up, I say!"

"_AHEM!"_

Both Alejandra and Joseph glanced towards the door where Beth, one of the security team, stood with a deadpan expression. Alejandra glanced over to Joseph with a naughty smile before returning to her paperwork.

"How is your pain now since I get you the injection?"

"Starting to take effect. Taking the edge of it a bit. But you know, I like a little pain. Its sexy. Especially when its you causing it."

She gasped with feigned shock. "I didn't realise you were that type of man! I was hoping for the romantic, cuddly type."

"I can be whatever you want me to be…"

Finished with the paperwork, she set the clipboard down on another bed and made sure the edges of his bandages were smoothed over and secure, before stepping back with a thumbs up. "There you go. Now, don't go getting yourself shot again. Its not good for you."

"Best words I've heard coming from a nurse!" He put his hands behind his bandana-clad head. "But I'll have you know, on record, she caught me by surprise! I'm not usually so careless."

"Was it Sunny?" Alejandra teased. She knew what the woman could be like with him. She always threatened violence. Whose to say she wouldn't go ahead and inflict it.

"Oh, she wishes!" He carefully climbed off of the bed. He was tentative with putting weight on his injured leg. "No, surprisingly, it was an old friend."

Alejandra cocked her head as she packed away her supplies. "An old friend, huh? Not much of a friend if they shot you."

"Well, maybe not friend, I guess. I knew her in passing. I don't think she did it on purpose anyway. Unless she's gone all gun crazy in the last few years."

Alejandra turned to him. "This woman… Did she have long hair, dyed auburn with blonde streaks?"

"Yeah. But I remember her when she had a really tomboy cut." He cast her a curious glance. "You got to see her, then? It was bound to happen. She got pretty beat up."

"What's her name?"

Before he could answer, Beth stepped between them. "That's enough. That information is classified."

Joseph stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You guys can be so uptight sometimes."

Alejandra, though not impressed by the sledgehammer coming down on their conversation, just chuckled sardonically. "Orders are orders, I guess. Well, I shall check on you again soon. Say hello to the others for me."

"I will. I'm sure they'd be glad to see your pretty face again soon! See you later!" He limped as stylishly as he could towards the door, followed by Beth, who gave Alejandra a very nasty glare before they both disappeared.

_I've never known so many assholes to gather in one place… _She retreated back into her office, more than ready to sit behind her desk with a coffee and that romantic book she had been trying to finish. And it was getting to the best part, too.

* * *

Rebecca had barely eaten the food they had left for her, though just enough to stop the churning in her gut. If anything, she wouldn't allow herself to go down the road of starvation. She wouldn't just give up like that. Besides, they'd probably end up doing vile things to her corpse, turning her into some kind of monster freak just to satisfy some biological curiosity. No, she was firm on her decision to survive and get back at them for taking her hostage.

She lay back on that sterile bed, eyes locked on the ceiling. The only way she knew that it was night was the announcing of lights out over that hidden speaker, before the room was plunged into darkness. There was still a small amount of lighting filtering in through the window from the dimmed bulbs in the kitchenette, letting a dull glow linger across the floor and onto the end of her bed.

She tried to forget her earlier encounter with those rough handed guards and the man who could have been Richard. No, he _wasn't _Richard. She wouldn't believe it.

But then again…

She hadn't believed that Wesker could survive his skewering courtesy of his Tyrant creation. But Richard had been ravaged by poison. He hadn't been infected by some virus. Then again, the more she thought about it, the more she couldn't be too sure. Her head began to throb as she dredged up memories of that fatal mission.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, slapping her hands over them, willing her head to clear the horrible imagery. She would probably have enough of them in her dreams to come without having to visualise them when she was awake.

Taking the great care to roll over into a more suitably comfortable position, she took to staring at the wall instead in the darkness. Waiting and hoping that she would sleep a dreamless sleep. Where there was only peace.


End file.
